Among the Weeds
by Verboten Byacolate
Summary: In a certain bar you might find a terribly homophobic German with his best friend, a sweet and gentle man who will be trying very hard not to flirt with the handsome Dutch bartender that's been throwing him smiles all evening. Written with whitetyger123
1. Chapter 1

Gilbert Beilschmidt stormed into his friend's apartment, slamming the door behind him. "Liz! Why did you have to live so close to the fucking gay district? I just saw two guys holding hands! _Holding hands_! Made me wanna puke!" He stomped into the kitchen, not having even seen Elizaveta, and took one of the beers from her fridge.

The brunette poked her head out from her bedroom door and rolled her eyes, buttoning up the rest of her blouse as she made her way down the hall. Her tone was sarcastic as she called back. "Well, hello to you too, Gilbert. Please, do come in. Would you like something to drink? Oh no, it's no trouble at all. You're just _so_ polite."

"Yeah yeah, whatever. I'm really getting annoyed that all these gay guys are, like, everywhere. It's getting as bad as the Asians!" He gulped the beer, even if it wasn't as good as German beer. At least it was better than American beer. "Last year, I saw gay guys kissing at the movies! They should have been kicked out!" He sat down at the table, sulking.

Elizaveta glanced in the hall mirror, readjusting the flowers in her hair. "You know, it's only just a little pathetic that you're still not over the fact that your best friends turned out to be gay. I think you just feel left out."

"Shut the hell up, I am not! I'm just pissed that they lied to me. And every gay that I have met have been liars." Okay, so the only gay guys that he had ever met were his ex-friends, Francis and Antonio, but they had lied to him for years.

The Hungarian sighed, pulling up a chair next to Gilbert and snagged his beer, ignoring the loud protests he issued on its behalf. "If you're so upset by gays, then I'll tell you one place that'll make you squirm. It's one of my favorite hang-outs- Roderich won't go near it, though." She knew that that alone would at least pique Gilbert's interest. Anything to annoy Roderich. "Wreck Beach."

He leaned back in his chair, angry that he no longer had the beer. "That nude beach? Why would gays go there, they would need to like, hide their eyes from all the chicks." He had only been in Vancouver for about a year, so he hadn't really gone to the beaches yet. Elizaveta rolled her eyes.

"You're a moron, Gilbert. Fine. Go for the boobs if not for the gays. But you might as well try it out." She snorted, leaning her elbow on the table and taking a swig. After a short moment, two fingers up, she made them into air quotes. "You can 'reveal your awesome five meters' to the world."

"Yeah, those gays would be like drooling at my five meters." Once again, sarcasm was completely lost on him. But Gilbert started thinking, if there was a gay part of the beach, he could like go there and pretend to be gay while secretly making fun of all the gay guys hitting on him. Man that would be a great prank! He told Elizaveta about it, with a few more swear words and some gay bashing thrown in.

She shook her head with a sigh and set the bottle down.

And then, all of the sudden, a light bulb went off in her mind. A sly grin melted over her face.

"You know... you should definitely go hit up some of the twinks. Show them just how.." Shudder. "... appealing you... probably are."

The plan started to take shape. Liz had come up with the awesome idea of her hiding in a tree and filming the whole thing, so they could laugh about it later—well, she hadn't said that in so many words, but Gilbert could connect the dots. He would go around, and gays would hit on his awesomeness, and he would turn them down and maybe like call them fags or something. It was going to be epic!

He was hoping that there would be at least a few lesbian chicks there, cause they would probably be totally naked and making out and stuff. They would be something he could watch instead of all the gays.

Wreck Beach's long stretch of sand faded into a horizon of blue ocean to one side and a thin forest of trees on the other. Elizaveta enjoyed bringing Roderich just to watch him squirm and blush and act all indignant, but this... this could be good. She made her way up a rather short tree with the camera strap between her teeth, clinging to a thick branch at the very top. She looked over the side at Gilbert who stood bored beneath. "Go on, now. Go hit on some... er, I mean, let some of the cuties... Just go get hit on, Gilbert." She waved her camera at him. "Shoo shoo."

Now that he was here, Gilbert felt much less confident in the plan. Looking around, he saw a lot of gays with random piercings, hair died random colours, not to mention that a hell of a lot of them were completely naked. He himself was wearing black and white swimming trunks, definitely not wanting to go in the nude in front of a bunch of gays, no matter what.

But, he had gone this far, and he wasn't leaving empty handed. Chest puffed out, he walked up to one kind of skinny guy who looked like he was sun tanning. "Nice day for the beach, isn't it?" Gilbert asked, trying to start up a conversation.

Not a little stoned, the man smirked at Gilbert. "Sorry, bro, not gay. I'm just here for my sister." He snorted. "Better luck next time."

A little put off, Gilbert went in search of another victim. He was in luck, because he saw a smallish man not too far away. Had he not been in only a bathing suit, he might have mistaken him for a slightly boyish looking girl. But as it was, it was definitely a boy, and obviously a gay one because there is no way a straight guy could look like that. He walked over to him, waving his hips a little. Surely, there would soon be a whole bunch of gays crowding around his awesomeness, just to be rejected.

"Mathias, be careful, the riptides are really dangerous- Ah! Christian! Don't push him under!"

The young man turned worried eyes from his roughhousing friends to the approaching Gilbert, his lips quirking into a polite smile. "Hi! Can I help you?"

Gilbert figured that this friendly smile must be this guy's way of flirting. Because who could resist his awesomeness? "Not really, I'm just looking to have some _fun_." He was not flirting, he was simply leaving it open for this gay guy to respond. And then be rejected!

Tino's smile faltered a bit at that. There were some odd vibes radiating from that albino. "Oh. Well, good thing you're at the beach, huh?"

He was about to respond when a very large, very naked man suddenly appeared by the blond's shoulder. "What d'you want?" The big guy huffed out, glaring at him from behind his glasses.

Gilbert looked him up and down, eyes trailing on his crotch in slight jealousy. Of course he shouldn't be jealous, because his own dick was totally bigger than this guy's! He was just usually a little cold. Not jealous. Cold. "Uh, there's no problem, really. Just having an awesome day at this awesome beach..." Gilbert quickly made his retreat, and tried to find someone who would _fucking hit on him_ so he could get this stupid day over with.

In the direction that the albino was retreating, a young, naked American gave a boisterous laugh and splashed his boyfriend with the cool ocean water, falling back into the gentle waves when the shorter man tried to splash him back. With long, hard strokes of his arms, he made his way back to the shallow shore, cackling as his boyfriend tried to follow.

He was too busy looking over his shoulder at Arthur to notice a pale, red-eyed narcissist running directly toward him in the opposite direction.

Immediately Gilbert had seen that this was the guy to get to flirt with him. Almost every gay was staring at his chest, shimmering in the sunlight, his blond hair just messy enough. He ran up to him, way more direct than before. "Hey! You have a nice dick! We should fuck!" Now when this guy agreed, he could say 'Haha yeah right you fag!' and leave, and it would be awesome.

Alfred was startled by the sudden proposition and gazed at him for a long moment before bursting into a fit of mad laughter. "Ahaha! That's a good one, brah'." He glanced to the side, blowing a kiss to the squawking Brit struggling through the water toward him. "But I'm only gay for Artie. Isn't that right, baby?"

"SHUT YOUR FAT GOB, YOU TOSSER."

Crossing his arms, Gilbert fumed. What the hell was wrong with this gay beach? Everyone was either straight, taken or in denial! "You have to be gay! Look at you, you're totally gay you faggot! Just admit it already! Come on, I'm way better than that ass face!" Maybe he just wasn't gay guy's type? Yeah, that could be it, they only went for not-awesome people like the angry guy with the big eyebrows. That would explain why no one was hitting on him.

Alfred frowned. "Hey! He's _my_ cute, sexy ass face, and I'd totally appreciate it if you'd chill the hell out." He grabbed Arthur around the waist when the Brit came at him swinging, and kissed his wet, salty forehead. "Oh. And if you make a move on him, I'll have to break your jaw."

Arthur grumbled a bit, his will to maim cooling. "You look a little flushed," he said with a frown. "It would be impolite to not offer you a rest. Our umbrella is over there-"

"The red, white and blue one!" Alfred said with a fistpump to the heavens. "Ah, but he's kind of a dick, Artie…"

Gilbert was grumbling, his hand itching to punch this guy but realizing that they were pretty much surrounded by people watching them. "No way in hell am I going to your stupid-ass umbrella! That's so gay!" He splashed out of the shallow water and couldn't help looking over to that huge umbrella.

His jaw dropped. He was too far away to see clearly, but it looked like a cute girl was sitting under that stupid umbrella! Well, since this prank was turning horrible quickly, he decided that he could at least end the day talking to a cute chick. He glance to the tree that Liz had been in, but didn't see her there. She must have moved to get a better shot of him yelling at that douche.

When he got to the umbrella, he was surprised to see that it wasn't actually a girl. It was a boy with longish wavy hair, shorts and a shirt, reading a book. Well, he had come all this way, so maybe _this_ guy would hit on him. "Hey, you know that ass hole with the boyfriend?" At 'boyfriend,' he put his fingers above his eyes to imitate the large eyebrows.

At the sharp tone of voice, the blond jumped. He blushed, embarrassed that he had not noticed the man walking up before, so engrossed was he in his novel.

"Um... yes?" he said softly, surprised that he had even been seen. "Did he offend you in some way?"

"Yeah he offended me! He was a total ass wipe. What, are you trying to get with him, too? 'Cause it's not gonna work; obviously, he likes ugly guys." Gilbert didn't really know who this guy was, but he had nothing better to do.

"Oh, geez, no," Matthew said with muted vigor, his brow a perplexed furrow at the stranger's tone and harsh choice of words. "That's my brother. He and Arthur... uh, his boyfriend... they were coming and I was dragged along. Something about needing a little sun... but I guess after seeing you, in comparison I don't look so pale anymore, huh?"

Gilbert considered his words. Well, he said he was dragged along, so he must be straight. And he seemed like a nice guy, and not a liar, so that meant he was _definitely_ straight. "Yeah, I'm part albino. Fucking awesome. I'm Gilbert." He sat down on the blanket beside him, abandoning the whole prank idea. It was nice to be once again in the presence of someone who wasn't trying to turn him gay.

"Uh... Matthew. Matthew Williams." He took his left hand out of the pocket of the thin, short-sleeved beach hoodie and held it out in all politeness.

The German shook it, and then laid down on the blanket. "Man this sucks here doesn't it? I had a friend here, but I have no idea where she went." He wasn't making fun of gays anymore, so maybe she went to get some food.

"Oh." Matthew didn't quite know how to answer that. "Sorry. She'll probably find you eventually. So... part albino, huh?" he said awkwardly. "How does that, um... work?"

He stretched out and scratched his bare stomach lazily. "Well, a full albino can hardly go in the sun, has to wear sunglasses and stuff. Me? Basically I'm just pale, have kinda red-ish eyes and wear sunscreen."

Matthew tilted his head to the side in inquisition. "Maybe you're a really thick-skinned albino," he joked. Gilbert smirked until his nose caught the alluring scent of hot dogs, and looked around for the source. A vendor with no shirt and purple hair was close by, and Gilbert could feel himself getting hungry. "Hey, want a hot dog?"

Matthew, who was very used to being commanded and never asked, only stared at him for a minute. "Actually, that sounds pretty great."

The hot dogs were mediocre at best, and the company was embarrassing, but Matthew enjoyed them both after a short time. Gilbert seemed to be daring any man that walked by to say something about a guy on a gay stretch of beach eating a hot dog, but when he wasn't making an ass of himself, he was kind of funny. Unintentionally funny, but funny all the same. Matthew hadn't ever anticipated meeting someone as full of themselves as Alfred was, but the world was apparently a pretty big place after all.

He shoved the last bite of the hotdog in his mouth and licked his fingers clean, violet eyes glancing down Gilbert's body stretched out taut and lean. It wasn't by any means an unpleasant view.

"That was so good! Hot dogs are so much better than hamburgers don't you think? So what book were ya reading anyway?" He tried to remember what the cover was, but honestly Gilbert hadn't paid attention. It was amazing that this guy was related to that naked fucktard!

Matthew answered without really thinking about it, tilting his upper body back to look him over. "Uh, not to change the subject, but did you put any sun-tan lotion on? Your shoulders are getting pretty red." He leaned a little closer, peering at Gilbert's face. "Your nose, too."

Crossing his eyes to see his nose, Gilbert sighed. "Shit, I put some on when I got here!" And he had left it with Elizaveta because he didn't want to carry it around when he was trying to get gays to hit on him. "Oh well, won't be the first sunburn of my life and won't be the last."

"I guess so," Matthew conceded after a moment, brushing the golden hair out of his eyes when a breeze tussled it. "Would you like some more, just in case?" He dug around in Arthur's bag, brandishing a bottle. "It's really powerful stuff- if you had enough and sent it out into space, it could probably extinguish the sun."

He laughed at that, taking the bottle. "Yeah thanks." He started covering himself, getting his shoulders especially. Then he turned around. "Hey could you get my back?" As Matthew started spreading some on his back, he saw two guys watching them. "Hey! You like this? Why not go watch some gay porn! Freaks!" Needless to say they ran away pretty fast, shooting looks over their shoulders.

The Canadian frowned. "That's not very nice, you know." Not that he expected the albino to listen. He made sure to cover every inch of the white back, turning a little red at the lean muscle he could feel under the broad shoulders and back.

"It's their fault for looking at us!" Once his back was done, Gilbert turned back around and rolled his eyes. "I hate those kind of guys the most." Because gay guys were horny and liars. He didn't want to be with people like that, he would much more like to hang with Matthew, since he seemed nice and was fairly easy to push around.

Matthew's frown deepened slightly. "What do you mean, 'those-'"

"MATTIE!" came a too-loud voice from across the beach, near the ocean. They glanced up to see Alfred waving one arm around in the air, the other occupied with holding a flailing Brit over his shoulder. "MATTIE, C'M'ERE!"

He sighed and stood, dusting the sand off the back of his shorts just as a pretty girl with long brown hair sidled up with a smile on her face. "Hi!" she said cheerfully, and Matthew greeted her a little shyly in response. She looked down at Gilbert. "Are you ready to go now?"

Gilbert looked over at Elizaveta. Where the hell had she been? "Uh yeah we can go. Before I get more of a sunburn." He looked over at Matthew, who seemed to be hovering. "I had fun dude, thanks for hanging out with me. Hey Liz, you got a pen?" He grabbed it when she handed him one and grabbed Matt's hand. "This is my number. Maybe we could grab a beer some time."

Matthew watched, dazed and confused, as the heel of his palm was scribbled over, and just before the two turned away, he stammered, "Um... would you like mine, too?" He glanced toward Alfred. "Just in case this fades in the ocean or.. or something?"

Elizaveta literally pushed Gilbert toward him with a wide grin on her face. "He'd love your number. He doesn't have many friends."

"Hey! That's so not true! I have tons of friends!" But he still held out his hand and the pen, very conscious that the ass hole was quickly coming closer to them. He wanted to punch the guy... but He was Matthew's brother, so he figured that probably wouldn't be too good. Once the number was written down, he pulled his hand back and waved goodbye.

Matthew waved back, even when the two had turned their backs to him, and watched him go with a wondering gaze.

"What's up with your face, Mattie?" Alfred asked, one hand on his hip.

"Put me down, you sodding piece of-"

Alfred just patted his boyfriend's ass, smiling all the while. 'Aw, does Mattie have a crush~?"

"Alfred!"

* * *

  
Walking away, Gilbert passed the pen back to Elizaveta and tried hard not to rub his hand on his skin, considering he was covered in sunscreen and the ink would probably rub off. "So, did you get some awesome videos of me making fun of gay guys?"

"Something like that," Elizaveta said distractedly, clicking through the digital shots of adorable couples in scandalous situations. "I stopped filming after your third failure, though. Waste of precious memory."

He scoffed and grabbed the camera. "Then what the hell were you filming?" He looked through the small view and scrunched up his brows. "These are all shots of gay guys! Like that couple with the really big guy! I'm practically in the background! You obviously don't know how to work a camera."

She snatched it back, holding it to her chest like a prized possession. "I am content, and that's all that matters."

* * *

So there you have it. A homophobic Prussia. Let's see where it gets him, shall we?


	2. Chapter 2

Days passed, and though Matthew had lost all but a tiny glimmer of hope that the phone would ring, one warm evening it did. In an act of trying to stave off any pathetic feelings, he had simply programmed Gilbert's number in his phone under the name _'Partialbino'_ and definitely hadn't given it a special ringtone. Yet. He knew that the moment he answered a call from _Partialbino_, that would probably have to change.

"Hello?"

"'Sup man. I wanna get drunk and my brother's busy." Gilbert never really liked drinking alone at a bar. If you're drinking alone, then you were a drunk. If you had a friend, then you were just having fun! But stupid Ludwig had to study. Asshole. So he had searched his phone and eventually came upon the name of his beach buddy.

Matthew could only stare at the wall across from him, his lips parted slightly in surprise. "That's... nice." He wasn't sure whether that was an invitation, a dare, or a statement of a man already as drunk as he wanted to be.

Gilbert was already putting on his shoes, because he remembered that it was really easy to get Matthew to do stuff, so obviously they would be drinking together. "Yeah, so is there any bar that you prefer or should we just meet at the Post House?" That is the one he usually went to, after all.

The Canadian glanced at the clock without really seeing. "I think you're assuming that I'm not busy right now. Kinda rude. Almost like you're suggesting that just because you want a drink, that's automatically more important than anything I'm doing at the moment." His eyes widened at his own candidness; normally, the only person he could really talk to in such a manner was Alfred.

"Well... are you busy?" Gilbert asked with a bit of cockiness. "And by busy, I mean doing something more important than hanging with my awesomeness." Obviously, there was nothing better than that, so Matthew would be going with him.

Matthew switched the phone to his other ear. "I guess in someone's opinion, watching the wallpaper peel is more important than hanging out with an albino... or part of one." He sighed. "That sounded pathetic even to me. Fine. But if it's the Post House, I can't go."

He finished putting on his shoes and headed out the door. "Why not? Whatever, just pick somewhere and meet me there. But it has to have good beer! And cheap too if you can manage." Because he drank a lot of beer, and it could get expensive after a while.

The Canadian decided not to tell Gilbert that he wasn't allowed within one hundred feet of the aforementioned bar on account of one particular evening during hockey season and stood, going through his drawers for a pair of pants that weren't pajamas. "Well, I've got a friend who owns a bar, so I get a discount..."

"Perfect! Where is it? And I'm already out the door, so you'd better hurry up." Discounts were great! He knew he had made a good friend.

Matthew gave him directions, and by the time the sun was half hidden over the horizon, he was on his way out.

Arthur's pub wasn't terribly far from his apartment, so he was there an easy fifteen minutes before Gilbert. He waved the German over, a little surprised at how easily he'd garnered his attention. "Long time no see, eh?"

"Is it? Didn't we just meet like... uh... When was that exactly?" Gilbert ordered himself a pint of beer from the skinny waitress who looked like she weighed ninety pounds. She was kind of cute, but he liked his girls with bigger boobs.

"Figure of speech," Matthew clarified with a soft laugh and smiled when the waitress addressed him directly. "Hello, Lili. I'll just have a soda for now." He noticed Gilbert's odd look when she left and shrugged. "I've got a paper to write later."

The German laughed and got comfortable in his seat. "Even more reason to drink! So you mean you go to the University?" He waited for Matthew to nod before continuing. "Cool, my brother goes there. He's in sciences." And he could usually get Gilbert into all the good parties if he wasn't a total Melvin and went to some himself.

"Really?" Matthew acknowledged softly, smiling when their drinks were delivered. "What's his name? I might know him. Or of him."

"Ludwig. You probably wouldn't know him, he pretty much keeps to himself." The waitress came back with their drinks, so he thanked her and took his own. It was pretty good for beer that wasn't German.

"Ah." Matthew glanced around the bar, his mind grappling for a topic. It was a little weird, trying to talk to someone whose interests and personality were so different than his own. At least he and Alfred were related and on a similar mind wavelength. "So... do you... always drink when you're bored?" he asked awkwardly.

He shrugged and gulped more beer. "Not really. Just when I feel like it. Hey, I heard a joke the other day and it's hilarious! What do perverts and tortoises have in common?" He paused for dramatic effect, "They both want to get there before the hair! Get it? Hair, hare, you know?"

Matthew's lips twisted into a grimace. "I get it," he assured, wondering if just one drink would make the rest of the night less awkward.

Four beers later and he was leaning against Gilbert, giggling and snorting in tandem with Gilbert's jarring cackles at a joke that was several degrees below funny.

"And the waiter says... You're a mean drunk, Superman!" Gilbert and Matthew erupted in laughter, sloshing their mugs of beer together in an impression of a toast. Their waitress came back, and said something about the owner wanting to see them.

Arthur came out a grimaced when he saw who Matthew was sitting with. Why was he drinking with that rude guy from the beach? "Don't drop the mugs, you bloody idiot!"

Matthew stopped laughing immediately and blushed like a child caught doing something naughty by his mother. "Hi, Arthur," he said softly, and hid his red face in Gilbert's shoulder. "Is he still looking?" he whispered loudly to the German.

The albino looked up and saw the caterpillar man from before. "Yeah, I think he is." He whispered back, just as loudly. "But maybe he can't see us from under those eyebrows?"

Just as Matthew erupted into a fit of giggles, Arthur slammed his hand on the table. "You are in _my_ bar, and I can have you kicked out, I hope you know. There will be no further mention of my eyebrows!"

Matthew nodded his head vigorously against Gilbert's shoulder. "Never again!" he promised. "I can't even see them with my eyes closed. Promise!"

And then he nearly slipped out of his chair.

Gilbert just managed to grab his friend around the waist, partly to keep him from falling, but mostly because his own balance had become unsteady. He also didn't heed the warning from the Brit. "I mean, why are they so big? I thought gay guys cared about their appearance."

That's how they found themselves on the street, Gilbert sporting a very red mark on his cheek. "I think he overreacted."

"I think his eyebrows overreacted."

As Gilbert dissolved into another bout of hysterical laughter, Matthew clapped a hand over his mouth, his face beet-red. "That's a terrible thing for me to say!" he bemoaned himself.

He was still laughing, leaning against his new friend for support. "It was a hilarious thing to say! And true!" Gilbert laughed for a few more minutes before almost falling on his face. "Well, should we go to another bar? Or should we call a taxi and go home?"

Matthew stumbled a little under the extra weight and blew the hair out of his face. "We've already been kicked out of one," he pointed out, "and I practically live with the owner. That's so sad, Gilbert."

"It's not our fault he's gay and oversensitive. Where are the fucking cabs? It's not that late, there should be more around here." Gilbert held out his hand as if waiving for a taxi, even there were none in sight. He was still leaning heavily against Matthew, having had at least twice as many beers as him.

"C'mon, my house is like... a block away." He tried to drag the dead weight along. "You can make it a block, can't you?"

Gilbert was mumbling something and followed his blond walking stick. "Sure, your house sounds good. Mine is like pretty far away from here. Which is why I wanted to go to the Post House!"

Matthew griped back as they trudged along the sidewalk, "I told you, I'm not allowed in the Post House! Shush up and be a good listener, you... you... pale monkey!"

"You didn't say you weren't allowed, you said you couldn't go. I _was_ listening." Gilbert mumbled against Matthew's shoulder, practically falling asleep. He really had gone overboard on the alcohol tonight. He usually didn't get this bad.

Feeling the weight grow even heavier, Matthew gave Gilbert's face a quick slap. "Don't you dare fall asleep on me! We're nearly there!" He managed to pull Gilbert around, thanking his lucky stars that Alfred's apartment was on the first floor. He fumbled the keys out of his pocket and somehow got them both through the door.

Once inside, Gilbert saw the couch and practically crawled for it. "G'night, babe," he mumbled into a pillow, sleep-hungry and deeply intoxicated, not even really knowing who he was talking to anymore. It had to be a girl right? 'Cause who else would bring him home?

Matthew stumbled to his bedroom, collapsing half on, half off his bed. When his thoughts caught up to him, he yelled with half of his face hidden in the blankets, "Not your babe!" before promptly passing out.

* * *

Alfred walked in in the morning, having spent the night at Arthur's house. As soon as he had gotten home from work and they had gone to bed, but most certainly _not_ to sleep. Needless to say, it had been a very good night.

The morning was less good, considering he walked in to a pale guy snoring like a bear on his couch. He scratched his head, wondering where he had met him before. "Mattie! What's with this guy?" he yelled as he reached his brother's room.

Matthew jerked awake and keened quietly, stuffing his head under a pillow. "_Shhhhhhh_," came the drawn out sound from the fluffy white cushion as a desperate plea.

"Get up! It's not my fault you're hung over!" Alfred turned on the light and lifted the pillow off him. "I deserve to know why there is a guy on my couch!"

Matthew curled himself into a ball and groaned loudly to show his displeasure. "Don't be a dick, Al," he whimpered. "He just crashed 'cause we couldn't get a cab and he was too drunk to walk home. Pleeease turn the light offfff."

The older brother rolled his eyes, and sat down on the bed. "Why did you get so drunk anyway? You usually stop after like one drink." Arthur had briefly mentioned that he had to kick Matthew out of the bar, and now that he thought about it he might have also mentioned another guy before Alfred had taken his pants off.

The Canadian cringed when Alfred tried to take the pillow away but held fast. "Can't talk. Light on. Sapping talk powers."

"Fine, I'll turn the light off." Alfred got up and flicked off the light, watching as Matthew visibly relaxed. "Is that better? Alright, now tell me what happened last night. Please tell me you didn't sleep with him; he hasn't even gone through the Acceptable Boyfriend For My Brother test!"

Matthew heaved yet another groan. "There's no way, Al. That guy's a homophobe to the core. We were just hanging out." But he wiggled around a bit in case there was any ache in his hips, just to be sure.

Once again sitting on the bed beside his brother, Alfred reached for the water bottle on the table and handed it to him. "Why are you hanging out with a homophobe? And wasn't he the guy at the gay beach the other day?"

Matthew shrugged, taking a swig. "Yeah, that's him. He was with his friend." His really pretty friend. "And I like him, so don't morph into a giant douchebag when he wakes up, okay? Please?"

"I am not a douchebag! I'm like the nicest guy in the world! But yeah, if you date him, he totally has to go through the test." So what if Matthew hadn't agreed to let any of his past boyfriends go through his test, he still wanted them to!

The Canadian made a disparaging noise low in his throat. "What part of homophobe is so hard for you to understand?" he groused. "Obviously he's not gay. But..." He cleared his throat, hiding his face in a different pillow. "But I do... like him."

Back out in the living room, Gilbert had just rolled off the couch. It was a rather rude awakening, especially with a killer hang over. "Owwww fuck." He looked around, not sure where exactly he was. Had he gone home with a chick last night or something? This place was clean enough for a girl to live in...

Muffled sounds of talking drifted down the hall, and through Matthew's bedroom door he finished softly, "So just try to be nice, okay? I want to trust you to be the bigger man here."

Gilbert knocked on the slightly ajar door, just starting to get back some of his memories from last night. "Hey, who's in there? I don't exactly know where I am..." He remembered drinking with Matthew, and something about caterpillars... after that it was pretty much a blur.

Matthew's head popped up and he immediately regretted it. "Come in," he called softly, "but don't turn the light on."

Once Gilbert stepped in, Matthew recounted all the goings-on of the night before, offering a little spot of bed for Gilbert to sit.

"Man, sorry for getting you kicked out of that bar. Hopefully the limey will forgive you." He glared at the other blond in the room. "What are you doing here, fag? Why don't you go running to your boyfriend's?"

"Hey! If you gotta problem with my sexuality, then why not get the fuck out of my house?" Alfred said, resisting punching him.

"Gilbert!" Matthew said, ignoring his piercing headache and lurching forward to grab Alfred's arms, just in case. A frown deepened his features, a tinge of sadness flickering across. "Gilbert, if I was gay, would you say cruel things to me, too?"

Alfred looked at his brother in surprise. That was probably the closest thing to a lie Matthew had ever told! Why was he doing it just for this homophobe? But he still kept quiet.

The German huffed and crossed his arms. "But you're not gay. Gays lie, and you're honest, so you're not gay." One more glare at the older brother, and he turned around, leaving the room. He didn't want to be there with a homo.

Matthew exchanged glances with Alfred and sighed. "Sorry, Al. Something happened with his friends. He's... bitter about it. I'll go talk to him."

He got out of bed and padded down the hallway, raking a hand through his unkept hair. Gilbert was busy looking for his missing shoe. "Hey, um..."

"Sorry, I know he's your brother and everything. _Mein gott,_ where is that shoe?" He bent to look under the couch. Who knew, maybe he was so drunk last night that he only took one off when he came in the door?

Matt glanced around and found the shoe under the coffee table, handing it over with a slight shyness. "Do you really think all homosexuals are bad people because of your friends? Isn't there anything that could change your mind?"

Taking his shoe back, he paused as he went to put it on. "They didn't even tell me! One day, I walked into the locker room to find them together, naked. And I knew another gay guy, who was a total prick. Even though he played beautiful piano. And then there's your brother who seems like he's a dick to you, pushing you around and stuff, and even the British guy who kicked us out. Face it, Matt, gay guys are horrible." He finally got his shoe on, and looked up to Matthew.

"But I-!" he stopped himself, sealing his lips. Despite the other's intolerance, Matthew really did enjoy his company, and he really didn't have enough friends that remembered him to let one pass by. His eyes found his shoes. "I had a good time last night," he finished softly, his socked toes curling. "Maybe we could do it again sometime."

Gilbert nodded and opened the door. "Yeah, sounds good. But I'm gonna go and try to sleep off this hang over, so I'll see you whenever."

He lifted his hand and it remained in the air long after Gilbert had slammed the door shut.

* * *

SHAZAM: SUDDEN CHAPTER END. Until next week, gaiz. :D


	3. Chapter 3

He had never really expected Gilbert to follow through, more than used to people forgetting his existence or their promises to him. Surprisingly enough, though, outings with Gilbert became a regular thing. They'd been out for drinks numerous times, both alcoholic and caffeinated, gone out to dinner a few times at the German restaurant that Gilbert's brother owned, and on occasion they'd see movies of mutual interest.

One particular evening, Elizaveta nearly tripped over a crouched Gilbert near her bedroom door. Well... maybe 'nearly' wasn't the right term. It was more like she accidentally walked into him and toppled over his hunched body onto the floor. "Dammit, Gilbert! What are you doing there? ... Is that my purse?"

"Yeah, you usually have gum. Where is it?" Last time he and Matthew had gone to the bar, Arthur had said that he had stinky breath. He was going there tonight again, so he wanted to make sure that no matter what he was minty fresh. "Like that stuff to make your breath smell good."

Her brow furrowed. "But you're not going out with Matt to- oohhh." A sly edge tickled her grin. "Already taking him on impromptu trips, huh? It's only been a couple of months and you're hoping to surprise him. How sweet." She went to her coat in the closet and dug a pack of strawberry Tic-Tacs out, tossing them to him. "I support you all the way."

Taking the pack, he popped a few in his mouth. "What the hell are you talking about? I just wanna surprise him 'cause it's his birthday. His brother's birthday is like three days after his, so they always just have a big party then, but I wanted to celebrate Matt's actual birthday." Nothing strange about that was there?

Elizaveta grinned. "Mmm, riiight," she said, nodding in a humoring fashion. "Because you've _always_ been so thoughtful."

"Yeah I have. Hey, you can draw pretty well… could you make him a card with a polar bear on it?" He had tried to find one, but he was now sure they didn't make them at any of the stores in their neighborhood. Well, he had only really looked in one store, but they should still have one!

She giggled a little to herself and went to grab a piece of paper.

The doorbell rang and she called from the den, "I'll have this done in a minute, so don't tell him you guys are going out yet!"

"Don't say 'going out'! It sounds gay!" He answered the door anyway, nodding to Matthew. "Hey, come on in." He had invited him over for a movie night, and once Elizaveta was done with the card, he would suggest they go out for drinks.

Matthew smiled a little shy smile and stepped in at the invitation, glancing around the apartment for the first time.

"Who were you talking to?" he asked curiously.

He looked back to where Elizaveta was and shrugged. "Liz, she's just doing something and then she'll leave. What do you wanna watch?" He went over to his stand with his movies, even though he knew they wouldn't be watching it.

He watched the door Gilbert had gestured to as he walked over to the German, standing behind him and peeking over his shoulder.

"Um, wow. That's... that's a lot of porn."

Gilbert grinned at what he considered to be praise. "Yeah, good stuff too. But we don't have to watch it, unless you want to." A lot of people found it strange that he kept his porn collection in plain view. Except for his brother. After all, at least all of his movies were in alphabetical order.

"All right, Gillikins, here it is. Hello, Matthew," Elizaveta greeted cheerfully as she strolled through the room, handing a folded piece of paper to Gilbert.

He grabbed the paper before Matthew could see it and slipped it into his pocket. "Thanks. Bye." He added, to make sure that she wouldn't try to stick around. He glanced at Matt who was looking at him curiously. "It's a... phone number. She was looking it up for me. Hey, I'm hungry, we should go to the bar!"

"Talking about me like I'm not here. Hmph. I see how it is." She faked a pout and picked up her purse, wiggling her fingers at Matthew. "Bye-bye. Have a great night, and happy birthday!"

"Oh, ah, thank you very much," he said with a bit of a blush. Matthew looked back down at Gilbert when she left and blinked. "We're not going to stay in tonight?"

Gilbert turned off the TV and stood up. "Yeah, I would rather go out. Not to the fag's bar, we always go there." Now that it was getting close, he was getting a little anxious. Why didn't he just say outright that he wanted to celebrate Matthew's birthday? It would have been so much easier.

Matthew frowned. "Gilbert. You know how much I hate it when you say things like that." Even though he had hung around Gilbert for the past few months, he'd never really developed a tolerance to the wicked slander. It still cut him a little every time the words were used, because he knew deep down that if Gilbert realized that he was a homosexual, he would develop a hatred hate him without a second thought.

The very thought pained Matthew greatly, and he brought a hand over his chest.

"Well, if you think about it, the dude is English. In England, a fag is just a cigarette, so to him it's not much of an insult." Gilbert grinned at his brilliance, so Matthew couldn't get angry at him. Much. Except for when he called his brother a fag, since his brother wasn't English so that logic wouldn't work as well.

The Canadian just shook his head, unwilling to fight about it. He knew he wasn't going to win. "All right. So, not Arthur's. Where do you want to go, then?"

He thought for a moment, somewhere nice, with good beer. The last part was a necessity for any place that he went to, but Gilbert figured Matthew would appreciate it as well. "How about The Cactus Club?"

Matthew tilted his head a little to the side, his violet eyes roving over the wall as he took a little trip down memory lane. Coming up with nothing, he shrugged. "I've never been there before, but I suppose it's worth a try."

So they headed out. Gilbert still had the card in his pocket, not having had a chance to look at it. He was confident in Elizaveta's drawing skills though, since he had seen some of the stuff she had drawn. It took a while for them to get a seat, and when they did he smiled and pulled out the card. "Well, surprise! Happy Birthday!"

With a pleased smile he took it, exclaiming his pleasure over the adorable polar bear sketch on the front. "So cute!" he laughed, opening the paper up.

_To a beary adorable gent,  
Happy birthday._

Love, Gilbert and Liz

PS: The five meters? No joke. Go for it. ;)

Matthew blushed a deep scarlet and quickly tucked the card away in his hoodie pocket, thanking Gilbert once more.

"You're welcome. I knew you would like it, cause I'm just awesome like that." He had seen the drawing when he pulled it out, and was a little happy that Elizaveta didn't add a random drawing of a penis or something. On the other hand that would be kinda funny, but even better if it was like boobs. Because Matthew would appreciate it if it were boobs.

Matthew laughed and ordered when the bartender moved near to them. He was actually kind of cute; very tall, with gently spiked hair, a scar over his right eye and a wide-awake, attentive expression. The nametag on his chest offered a single name: Lars.

Over the rest of the night Matthew only drank a fourth of Gilbert's intake, being the type to learn from his mistakes that he was. They kept up a steady flow of conversation, Matthew once or twice meeting Lars' eyes over the bar and sharing little smiles.

At one point, after Gilbert's fourth refill, somehow they clambered onto the topic of girls. Matthew took that opportunity to tentatively ask a question that had been on his mind for ages. "So... what exactly is Elizaveta to you?"

After another mouth full of beer, Gilbert gave a lazy shrug. "Well, she's probably the closest thing I have to a girlfriend. We've fucked around a couple times." He didn't have a girlfriend, because he didn't want one. They always wanted things, like clothes or jewelry. So Elizaveta would probably stay his kind-of girlfriend for a while.

Their waiter came back, and Gilbert completely missed it when he slipped a piece of paper over to Matthew. "I want another beer! It's a celebration after all!"

Matthew froze as his fingers folded around the paper. His heart beat a little faster, and whether it was from the number given freely by the handsome bartender or Gilbert's admission, he wasn't sure.

He did know that, even though in the forefront of his mind he expected as much, he had still somewhere deep inside hoped against hope like a fool. And he didn't feel much like celebrating anymore.

"... I need to use the restroom," he mumbled, sliding off the bench.

"Alright. If you take too long, I may finish off your drink!" He wouldn't want the beer to go warm after all. That would just be horrible for such a delectable brew. He watched Matthew go, and wondered if he looked a little green or not... Wait, he wasn't going to be sick or anything, was he? He wasn't drunk enough to puke, so maybe it was food poisoning? Uh oh, they had eaten the same thing! He had to make sure it wasn't food poisoning, 'cause he didn't want to toss his cookies! Literally, he had eaten cookies earlier that day.

Soon the German was going after him to the bathroom, hoping not to find his friend hunched over the toilet.

Matthew didn't look up from the sink when he heard someone walk in, staring the porcelain bowl down as he was, feeling a little nauseous. When he heard Gilbert's voice, his hands clenched the sides in a grip that turned his knuckles white. "N... I'm fine," he said softly, an automatic response to the question.

"You sure? It isn't food poisoning is it? I hate food poisoning, fucking horrible." Gilbert was still standing by the doorway, having closed it behind him. He was still holding the handle though, so when someone on the other side tried to get in, he quickly opened the door, told the man to fuck off and find another bathroom, and then locked it.

Matthew bit the inside of his cheek, glancing up at himself in the mirror. His face was pale. It was always pale. He had flyaway hairs and he wasn't very adventurous. He slept with a stuffed polar bear every night because, at least a little, it staved off his loneliness, like some kind of pathetic crutch. Why would anybody really want him?

He was lying, and Gilbert hated liars, so he might as well offer the truth.

"Gilbert, I'm gay."

There were sixteen seconds of silence. Gilbert knew, because he counted every one, seeing how long it would take for Matthew to start laughing. He once heard that it took only four seconds of silence for a conversation to turn awkward, so this was getting to be a bit much for a prank. He opened his mouth to try and make some sound. "Nice joke, now seriously what's wrong?"

Matthew couldn't look at him, wet heat prickling at the corners of his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said in a choked whisper, brushing past him and quickly slipping out the door.

Eyes wide, Gilbert stood in the bathroom for a few minutes. Shit, he really wasn't kidding? Matthew was a fag. He had been hanging out with a fag! Why did he always become close friends with guys who were lying to him about their sexualities!

He almost stormed out of the restaurant before being stopped to pay the bill. He had completely forgotten about it. Oh well, it wouldn't have been the first time he had dined and dashed. Gilbert made it to his house and collapsed on the couch. His mind kept going back to when he had found out about Francis and Antonio. How betrayed he had felt by his two best friends, and it was all happening again.

At the time, they had told him that they were afraid to tell him. That had just made him angrier, because at the time he had no problems with homos. They were just a fact of life. But that had proved that they lied to the world, even the ones who were out of the closet. All the times he had spent with them, talking about girls, looking at semi-nude magazines, they had all been lies. Practically his whole childhood was lies.

And now, when he thought he had left that all behind by moving to Vancouver, here he was again, friends with a liar.

Gilbert grabbed his phone, and quickly deleted Matthew's number. He didn't care that it made him feel weird and twisted inside, if he told Matt that he wasn't mad at him he would be a hypocrite and a liar.

The following day Elizaveta poked her head into the apartment in the early afternoon. "Gilbert? Are you alone~?" she called in a teasing croon.

"Go the fuck away! I don't wanna see your ugly face!" He threw something at the door, not even sure what it was, just something that had been in reach. As was his nature when he felt like crap, he had drunk even more beer last night, and had attained a splitting head ache.

She hadn't even needed to dodge the little action figure, wondering if he had been trying to hit her or the television with it. The latter was very nearly a success. The Hungarian sidestepped a shirt crumpled on the floor and perched herself on the coffee table, crossing her legs. "Well, _someone_'s testy. Who pissed in your cornflakes?"

He glared at her from under his hanging bangs. Gilbert was on the floor, having passed out on the couch and fallen off some time in the night. "You're still here, being a loud bitch. Why are you still here?"

"Because I'm a nice person," she answered sweetly, toeing his face with her boot. "You're not usually this much of a dick after a night out. How was Matt's birthday?"

He groaned and rolled over, now that she reminded him of that. "That stupid fuck face is gay and he lied about it. Just like fucking Francis and fucking Antonio, who are probably out there right now, fucking, and not even caring about me. And Matt's probably having like a threesome with his brother and that British ass. Because they're all gay together. Hell, what do I know, maybe they're all having a fucking orgy right now, with Francis and everyone, just a big gay fuck-fest!"

Her heel made a quick, harsh connection with his jaw and she glared, a snarl on her lips. She ignored his angry shout and promptly kicked him again, this time in the shoulder. "You are such a self-righteous asshole, Gilbert. What makes you think you have the right to decide who a good person is and who isn't? You think you're better than them? Like you don't lie?"

"But I _don't_ lie! I tell everyone exactly what I think of them, and that usually gets me in trouble, but I don't lie!" He stood up, rubbing his now sore jaw and glared at her. "The first day I met you I told you straight out you have a nice rack! Other guys would just pretend that they aren't staring, but they definitely were! You know, I'm glad that happened, 'cause now I can go back to my normal fucking life. As long as I have beer and girls who I can fuck with no strings attached, I'm good!"

Elizaveta stared up at him with angry eyes. Her voice was quiet, like the calm before the storm. "You honestly think you're okay with that?" she asked. "Spending your whole life alone with no friends? You think you can be happy spending your whole life only being fucked and never being loved? Well, screw you then." She stood then too, nose to nose with the albino and cutting off any response. "You judge people without a second thought, but if you ever used your brain, you might remember that Matthew is, above all else, a sweet, kind boy who befriended you selflessly and put up with all of your hatefulness just so he could stay friends with you." Elizaveta slung her purse over her shoulder and pushed him back, making her way toward the door. She didn't want to be there anymore.

But she paused in the doorway, looking back. "Consider this, dickwad. Figure out how many people have cared to stick by you, even though you're a hateful wretch. And put yourself in that poor boy's shoes. If he had told you right from the beginning that he was gay, you would have immediately assumed he was a liar and only a liar and completely cut him off from your life. And if that had happened, I would have never known that there was a happy, caring side to you." She opened the door. "He brought that out in you, you know."

It took Gilbert an hour to give up trying to think of something different, because his mind kept returning to Matthew and what Elizaveta had said. It took him another hour to admit to himself that he was maybe a little bit to blame.

Why had Matthew even hung out with him at all? If he knew he was gay, and he knew Gilbert hated gays, why did he put up with it for so long? It didn't make sense, especially when he thought back to all the things he had said in front of him. For a gay guy, that had probably been worse than growing up Catholic! Maybe he was like masochistic or something. He knew he was awesome, but no matter how awesome he was, no one would willingly go through that, would they?

Antonio and Francis hadn't put up with him after he told them just what he thought of them. Not that he would have given them a chance to if they tried. He had been pretty bitter back then, and he obviously still was.

He bashed his head on the table, making his headache come back in full force. Why did this have to be so confusing? He liked things in black and white. Straight people were good, gay people were bad. If he was lied to, it made sense that he was angry, right? Sure, Matthew may have had a decent reason to not tell him the truth, but that still shouldn't excuse the fact that he had lied to him.

Gilbert groaned and picked up his phone, remembering too late that he had deleted Matt's number. Then he thought about Francis and Antonio. He hadn't given them any chance to explain themselves. He knew that they could never be friends again, but maybe if he talked to them, it would at least give him a chance to get over the whole gay issue.

Those numbers had also been deleted, but he still remembered them. He called Francis first, and frowned when it said the number was no longer in service. Well of course it wouldn't be; it had been years since he had talked to them. There was almost no point in calling Antonio but he did anyway, just in case.

"_Si, hola_," came a cheerful voice on the other line. There was a bit of static and obnoxious grumbling and a raised voice in the background. "_Hush, mi vida, I'm on the phone. Hello? Hello?"_

Gilbert almost hung up out of surprise. Antonio sounded almost exactly the same as when they were friends, as if he hadn't aged a day. It didn't seem fair, somehow. "Toni?" He asked in a grating voice, mostly from still being hung over.

There was a long pause on the other line, only broken by a startled yelp from someone else, a blaring car horn, and an angry, _'Watch the road, you crazy bastard!_' After a moment the Spaniard's voice was back, if a little subdued.  
_  
"Hello, Gilbert. How are you?"_

"I'm shit, thanks for asking," he growled slightly before remembering that he wasn't supposed to be angry. He was supposed to talk and discuss things and fuck that sounded too girly to have come out of his brain. "Is, uh, is Francis there with you?" He heard the other voice, but it didn't really sound like the French third of their trio.

_"Hm? Oh no, Francis is in Europe right now. He's almost through with his apprenticeship. He'll be a real French chef soon!"_ Though cheerful, the Spaniard's tone was also cautious.

Gilbert paused, thinking that over. "That must be a real damper on your relationship." He couldn't help the bitterness in the words, almost an accusation. Fuck, this was a bad idea, it wasn't fixing, it was just bringing everything back.

_"Oh no, we are still very good friends!"_ Antonio replied. _"He writes often. But I think he is forgetting English on purpose; all of his letters seem to be getting more and more French."_ He laughed, having missed Gilbert's tone entirely.

He was even angrier now, gripping the phone tightly. "That's not what I meant, fag! What, trying to lie some more about you two fucking? Think it'll make it better?" This was just proving his point more, that gay guys couldn't be trusted!

Antonio was quiet again, patiently waiting until the harshness of Gilbert's breath had calmed. _"We aren't... anymore. Not for years. That time you saw us was the last. I'm in love now for the first time in my life, really and truly."_ A small pause. _"Not with Francis, if that's what you're thinking."_

That calmed Gilbert down a little, but not fully. At least he wasn't still being lied to (probably), but it still didn't change what had happened when they were in school. "Why... why didn't you tell me? I thought we were friends."

"_Why?"_ Antonio repeated the question with a sort of wonderment. _"I do not understand. We haven't changed, we just aren't together anymore. We didn't know whether it was the fact that we were both fooling around behind your back that hurt you or the fact that we realized that we weren't straight. And you weren't really up to associating with us at that point."  
_  
He grunted and went to the fridge. He had been stupid to think he could get through this without beer. "You both lied to me. Our whole friendship! We would talk about girls, about boobs, and all the while you were both gay and fucking each other."

_"Well, at first we thought we were, you know... straight. But then we... hold on a second." _Complete silence reigned over the other line for a minute or two, which indicated that Antonio had probably covered the receiver. _"Sorry about that. Anyway we were just trying to figure out exactly what we were. Francis isn't totally gay, you know. He's sort of... out there for everyone."_

Refusing to laugh at that, Gilbert drank some of his beer instead. "But you never told me! Not even when you two started fucking around." It wasn't fair. He hadn't been given a chance to decide what his own sexuality was, not really, after that he felt like if he turned out gay then he would have to hate himself.

_"I know. That was probably a terrible lack of judgment on our part. I'm sorry, my friend." _Antonio sighed on the other line and an offhanded string of grumbles was barely picked up by the phone's receiver. Through his next words, a smile could be heard. _"So why did you call, Gilbert?"_

He scratched his neck, and then because there was no one else in the house, scratched his balls. "I don't know. I made my best friend run away and another friend yelled at me for it. Guess I was feeling shitty and thinking about old times."  
_  
"You're pretty good at that, huh?"_ It was a humorless statement uttered not unkindly, just… honestly. _"Well? What are you going to do about it?"  
_  
Rubbing at his face, he realized how much he needed a shower. "I don't know, probably fuck it up more knowing me. And, no offense, but you're not really the person I would like to be talking to about this. Tell Francis I don't hate you guys anymore."

Antonio made a noise and called, _"Wait! Your friend. You're not going to just leave things the way they are, are you?"  
_  
"I guess not. It would just turn out the same as it did with you guys and I don't want to go through that again. Thanks Toni. I... wish you luck with your man." With his gay man, his mind added, but Gilbert was really going to try to make an effort to get better! It just might take a while.

"_Eheh_," he chuckled, and a sudden squawk was heard in the background. _"Thank you, Gilbert. We should really get together sometime, si? Ah, gotta go. Don't be a stranger!"_

On the other end of the line, the tone sounded so Gilbert closed his phone. Well, now that that was over, he started the shower. Luckily his eyes weren't as bloodshot as he had thought they were, so he could pass as presentable after he was clean.

Hours later, the door to Matthew's apartment opened at Gilbert's knock. The face of the man behind it, framed in golden waves, paled suddenly to a sickly white. He made a tiny noise of surprise and, almost as if on reflex, the door snapped closed again.

Gilbert stood there, his nose hardly a centimeter from the slammed door. Of all the reactions, he hadn't expected that. He wasn't exactly sure what to do… should he knock again? But if Matthew slammed the door in his face once, he didn't really want to give him the chance to do it again. Almost instantly amidst the cloud of confusion and surprise, the door reopened. Matthew's expression was flustered, if still white in paleness, and quick apologies were on his lips. "I-I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, I was just surprised; I really wasn't expecting you e-ever, so-"

The German went for a casual shrug. "Are you gonna let me in? Or do you wanna slam the door in my face a few more times?" He put on a half-smile, and tried really hard not to notice how puffy and red Matthew's eyes were.

The Canadian tried to swallow past the dryness in his mouth and bowed his head, shuffling back and opening the door a little wider.

"So ah..." Gilbert started as soon as he was inside and saw that the stupid older brother wasn't there, "If you promise to not like hit on me or something, I could probably stop calling people fags."

Matthew looked at him from the door, a dazed expression on his face. He watched Gilbert for a long moment and only realized that he had yet to close the door when a breeze threw his hair in front of his face, partially obscuring his vision. He shook his head and let the door swing shut, his eyes on the German.

He knew that as far as apologies went, that was Gilbert's.

"You mean it?" he asked quietly. "You aren't going to pull a nasty prank on me in the name of all straight men, are you?"

Considering the issue dealt with, Gilbert went to the couch and turned on the TV. "To tell you the truth, I'm not very good at pranks. They always fail somehow. Like at the beach, that was supposed to be a prank. Oh yeah, I should call Liz so she's not pissed at me anymore. They mean what they say with the whole hell hath no fury thing." He got out his phone, about to dial her number.

Tentatively, like a timid creature, Matthew crept up around the couch, seating himself as far away from Gilbert as humanly possible and gently sat, nearly hovering over the couch cushion as though something would erupt if he were to act naturally. It was too surreal, and Matthew didn't really believe it was happening. "Oh?" he asked softly.

"Yeah, I'm surprised I don't have a bruise. Hey Liz! ...That's not fair, you know I don't like that word. Yes, I know I called you it a lot. ...I made up with him. No seriously I did! I'm here right now. Here he is, talk to him!" He handed the phone to Matthew with a pleased look.

Surprised and perplexed, Matthew's hand took the phone automatically and he lifted it to his ear, his brows scrunched together. "Um... hello? Matthew Williams speaking... really." On Elizaveta's end she tittered happily, cooing at Matthew and bad-mouthing Gilbert here and there. Matthew laughed softly, color slowly rising back in his cheeks. "Mmm, I'll tell him. Thank you. Good-bye." He clicked the red button and handed the phone back to Gilbert, feeling much better than he had for the past twelve hours.

"What did she want you to tell me?" he asked, taking the phone back and putting it in his pocket. He was happy that she wouldn't be hitting him any time soon, or at least not for this particular incident.

"Well, there were quite a few insults thrown in, but.." He smiled. "Even though you're a complete asswipe, you can do some things right. In so many words."

Laughing a little, Gilbert looked back at him. "Sounds like her. Thanks for that, she never seems to believe me." He changed the channel a few times till he found something that wasn't on a commercial. "So did you have any plans today?

Matthew pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his chin atop them as his face was toward the television screen, but his eyes were focused on Gilbert. "No. I hadn't intended on making plans for quite a while, to be honest."

"Except for the party in two days right?" He still hoped he was invited, because he already knew that most of the guests would be there for Alfred.

He smiled a little and shrugged. "Al's always got some big party going on. This one'll just have more barbeque."

They watched TV for a while, until there were footsteps at the door.

"Hey Matt! Remember that shirt that Arthur got me? Do you know where it is?" Then he came into the living room and saw Gilbert there. Matthew hadn't said what had upset him the night before, but he had figured it out all on his own. "What the hell is he doing here?"

Matthew watched his anger rise with owlish eyes. "It's okay, Alfred; he came to apologize." A little nervously, he scooted closer to Gilbert.

"Yeah, calm down fa- uh Alfred." It might take a while for him not to call him fag, but he should get there eventually. At least he could still fight with him, because he hated him as a person and not just as a gay guy.

Alfred didn't look a bit happy, and Matthew knew that neither his brother nor his reaffirmed friend was very practiced at self-control. "Um, t-that shirt you were talking about is in the hall closet..."

With a silent glare, Alfred retreated from the room, grumbling all the way. As soon as the American was out of the room, Gilbert calmed back down and continued to watch the show. "Maybe I should go if he's gonna be around for a while." Since it was pretty obvious that they didn't get along.

Matthew rubbed the side of his neck sheepishly. "Actually... that might be for the best. For now." He sighed and stood.

Walking Gilbert to the door, he nearly lost his nerve until the German turned to leave down the hall before calling after him. "I, um... I really appreciate you coming." The truth brought a bit of color to his cheeks. "Really. Thank you."

He looked back and grinned. "Yeah, I guess I'll call you. Wait no! I... uh lost your number. Well actually I deleted it but you know what I mean." He took out his phone so he could add it in again, and felt like an idiot for taking it out of his phone.

The Canadian held the door open as he recited the number again, a world's weight lifted from his shoulders. "No more big secrets," he said softly before Gilbert could go. "I promise."


	4. Chapter 4

I'm sorry this wasn't updated last night. Ff.n wouldn't let me access "My Stories" when I logged in. It said that there was an error. I sent a message to support, but the results weren't instantaneous. Boo.

* * *

Gilbert was not happy. In fact, he was pretty pissed.

No one had told them that Matthew and Alfred's 'combined' birthday party was going to be at the gay beach! The only good thing was that everyone was dressed. Well, everyone except this really big guy who was only wearing a scarf, but he wasn't even sure if he was here for the party.

The sun had already fallen behind the mountains, so it was getting dark, and the smell of the barbecue was everywhere. Matthew was off being dragged around by his brother, so Gilbert was standing on the edge of the party, beer in hand, next to Liz. "I really wish that guy would put some pants on," he muttered, frowning.

"Mmm, but he looks like the creepy life of the party," Elizaveta giggled, a little tipsy from her own beverage. Teasingly, she nudged him in the side with her elbow. "Maybe you should take yours off, too. Not to be outdone."

He just grumbled into his beer and looked away. "When are they gonna open presents? Or bring out the cake. Man I hope there's cake." His eyes were trained on the only other person at this party that he could stand, and he looked to be trying to get away from his brother. Maybe he should go save him.

It was a terribly good idea on his part, too, because at that particular moment, Matthew desperately desired some saving. Alfred was laughing it up with his friends and had an arm tight around his shoulders; the poor boy found that he had a legitimate fear that within the next few minutes, he would be tossed over one barbeque-smeared shoulder.

Once he was done his beer, Gilbert thrust the can into Elizaveta's hand. "I'll be back. I have to be awesome." He went over to the center of the party, and he knew he was surrounded by gay guys. When he got there, he smirked to Alfred and pushed his hand off. "Just gonna borrow him. Come on."

"You can't borrow him, it's his party!" Alfred yelled after them, just so he would have the last word. They were already gone into the crowd.

Matthew heaved a sigh of relief, his smile grateful. "I owe you one," he said with a shy honesty. "That could've been bad."

"Yeah, I'm too awesome to let you be dragged along like that. Besides, the party is much better if you're not in the middle of those f— your people." Alright, it had only been a few days since he started trying to not say fags, and he had been saying it for years. He deserved some credit!

With an exasperated laugh, Matthew followed along closely, his eyes trained completely on Gilbert. "So where are you taking me, good sir?"

He pointed over to where Elizaveta was standing, close to the water but still far enough away so they wouldn't get wet. "So if I'm the good sir, does that make you the damsel in distress?"

"Oh, Alfred'd be pleased as punch to hear that," he said, rolling his eyes.

Elizaveta greeted them with open arms in the most literal sense of the word; Matthew found himself in her soft but crushing embrace in a heartbeat. "Happy belated birthday, Matthew," she crooned.

He chuckled, squeezing her gently back. "Thank you, Elizaveta."

"Call me Liza," she tutted, releasing him.

"Oh let him go; he's gay. He's probably disgusted by your boobs." Gilbert rolled his eyes and freed Matthew from her hug.

Elizaveta cocked an eyebrow and Matthew waved his hands about, his expression flustered. "No, no, your… breasts are very... nice," he said awkwardly. After a moment's silence he burrowed his face in his hands as she burst out into raucous laughter. Gilbert was also laughing, patting Matthew on the back. "He has a point though, they are nice. And actually pretty perky for their size." He reached out a hand and grabbed one, before she punched him in the face. "Ow, fuck! What? It's not like I've never felt them before!"

Her expression was sweet as she ground her heel into his foot. "You're as obnoxiously charming as ever, aren't you? Don't let him ruin your party, Matt."

"Oh, no!" he exclaimed adamantly, immediately thereafter realizing that his voice was too forceful. He regarded his shoes before glancing up, a sheepish smile on his lips. "I mean, he saved me from what was sure to become utter humiliation. He's not too bad."

Once he was finished hopping on one foot, Gilbert gave a quick glare to Elizaveta while speaking to Matthew. "Yeah, you might have actually been _noticed_ by one of those guys. How horrible would that have been?" His voice dripped sarcasm and he rolled his eyes. It had been plainly obvious that no one in the group of gay guys cared about Matthew. It just wasn't fair that he had to share this party with his brother.

Matthew's blush deepened and his eyes drifted to the left. "That wouldn't matter so much to me. I'm not... really... interested in any of Alfred's guests," he murmured. As Gilbert opened his mouth to reply, a tall guy with spiky hair walked up to them. He looked vaguely familiar...

"Hey Matt, there you are. I was looking for you. Thanks for inviting me." He smiled at Matthew, and Gilbert was sure he could smell pot on him.

The Canadian looked up and smiled brightly. "Lars! I'm so glad you could make it!" he exclaimed, self-consciously brushing a rogue strand of hair from his cheek. "This is my friend Elizaveta and her... and this is Gilbert."

They shook hands, and then Gilbert remembered where he knew him from. He had been their waiter when they had gone out a few days ago. "So what, you two knew each other? Why didn't you say anything when we were at the bar?"

Lars smiled at him in a private joke sort of fashion. "No, that's when we met. I gave him my number, he called and we talked, and he invited me here." He looked back at Matthew and stepped away from Gilbert. "I'm really sorry, I can't stay long. I have work in half an hour, and if I'm late again they'll probably fire me. Nice party though."

"Oh," Matthew said, a little disappointed. Quickly he recovered, the smile back on his lips. "Thank you for coming when you're so pressed for time. Do you have to go now?"

He looked at his watch and bit his lip. "Ah yeah, it took me a while to find you. But ah, I do have time for a hug."

At this Gilbert looked up. Oh, so this guy was gay too, and obviously trying to get in Matthew's pants. At least he didn't ask for a kiss or something, but seriously, they'd only known each other for like… three days! Matt's eyes flickered over to Gilbert for a split second before turning back to Lars. "I'll walk you to your car?" he offered, his hands stuffing themselves in the front pocket of his thin, short-sleeved hoodie.

Lars nodded and nodded to Gilbert and Elizaveta, then started walking towards his car. Out of earshot of the two left behind, Lars glanced sidelong at Matthew. "So that's the homophobe, hey? Strange place for him to be."

Matthew glanced over his shoulder at the two before they were swallowed up in the sea of guests. "Yeah... but he's getting better. I think." He tucked a strand of golden hair behind his ear and raised a pair of violet eyes to Lars'. "Um... uh..." Matthew struggled for something to say. Or something to do. "I'm sorry, I'm just nervous." He smiled sheepishly. "I'm not a very interesting person to talk to."

"Well, maybe if we meet up again, we won't even be doing much talking," he said with a grinning. Lars walked close to him, and snuck a hand around Matthew's waist. "Unless you don't want to take it slow, of course."

He knew his face must have been redder than an apple and chuckled nervously. "I think I might faint before you even get to first base," he admitted softly.

Lars laughed as they got to his truck and turned to him. "Maybe we should test that out?" He slowly leaned forward, intent on at least kissing him if not making out. Screw work, he could talk his way out of being fired.

The action, of course, was no help to poor Matthew's nerves. His own lower lip found itself caught between his teeth as he looked Lars over. "Okay. But you have to promise to catch me if I pass out. And no posting it on the internet if I do."

"Of course." He lightly grabbed Matthew by the arms, just to make sure that if he did pass out it would be easy to catch him, and pressed their lips together. Lars was pleased when the Canadian's lips opened slightly, and he was definitely still conscious.

It was not Matthew's first kiss, nor (hopefully) would it be his last, but it certainly ranked near the top for most pleasant. After a moment he pulled back, just a bit, and stared up into Lars' amused eyes. "You're... very good at this."

He winked at him, Lars pulled back. "I hope I am. Learned from the best." He gave him one last quick kiss, and opened his door. "But yeah, call me. I'm sure it'll be more fun than hanging out with the straight guy."

Matthew nibbled on his lip, stepping back and waving lightly as Lars backed up and drove away.

He slowly made his way back to the party, trying to savor the feeling of the kiss while his mind kept drifting off to Lars' last comment. "But I like hanging out with Gilbert," Matthew murmured to himself, glancing up. Over the sand and through a brief parting of people around the tiki poles, he caught a flash of white and smiled. Only a few people bumped into him as he made his way through, one even mumbling an apology, and finally he was able to squeeze past them all to Gilbert. He looked around. "Where's Elizaveta?"

"Talking to gay guys." Gilbert responded quickly, arms crossed across his chest. "Surprised you came back, after that great pick up line, _I have time for a hug_." he mocked, repeating the words the tall guy had used. He wasn't looking at Matthew, almost expecting to see a hickey or something. Matthew flinched internally at the harshness in his tone.

"I did take him away..." _so you wouldn't have to see,_ the thought finished in his mind. He hadn't wanted to disgust Gilbert with anything _gay_, after all, which had been part of the reason for walking Lars to his car. (The other part was, of course, sheer politeness.) Hesitantly, Matthew peeked into Gilbert's eyes to see if he was really mad. "I'm sorry."

Gilbert shrugged and put his hands in his jeans pockets. "Whatever, not your fault a random idiot hits on you, right? It's not like you're dating him." He didn't think he would be able to stand that guy if he was actually Matthew's boyfriend, with them cuddling and stuff all the time...

"Um." Matthew didn't meet Gilbert's eyes, rubbing his neck as he glanced around for something to point out, any change of subject. If that was Gilbert's take on it, there was no way he'd tell him they had been out a few times, and were apparently on for some... physical contact in the near future. "So. Alfred makes a... mean barbeque, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, it's alright. It's getting kind of cold though." Especially by the lake, in the dark. He wondered how long this was going to go on till, and wondered if it would be alright if he left early. But they still hadn't brought out a fucking cake!

Matt nodded, his hands deep in the pocket of his shirt. "Ah. You or the food?"

Looking at him again, Gilbert scratched his head. "Me, the food is still good. Is there gonna be cake?" Because then he could leave. This was awkward enough, but he was determined to get at least something out of this night.

"There should be," Matthew said, and shyly met Gilbert's eyes. "Um. If you're cold, you can put your hand in my pocket. It's pretty warm. No homo, though," he added for good measure, a sardonic smile blooming on his face as he lifted the large sweater pocket for display.

He laughed a little at that and shook his head. "No, it's fine. I think any way we do that it would look homo. And I'm starting to think Liz likes it." Considering that right then it looked like she was forcing two guys to hug.

Matthew shrugged, trying not to feel disappointed. "If you insist." He brought a hand up to his mouth to cover a yawn, rubbing his arms when a cool ocean breeze raised goosebumps along the skin there. "I don't know why there isn't cake on the refreshment table," he said. "Al goes all-out with birthday cakes. It's weird."

Just as he said so, there was a cheer from the crowd, and they looked over. There was a huge cake being brought out, enough to feed everyone there twice and still have left overs for months. Instead of candles there were sparklers, dozens of them, all lighting up the night. "Well, there it is." They started walking over there, especially since Alfred seemed to be holding up a large knife and yelling for his brother.

Matthew smiled tiredly at Alfred, keeping a safe distance from the energetic, probably drunk blond who had a knife and, coincidentally, didn't know his own strength. "Be careful, Al."

"There you are! Come on, you make the first cut! And I can do the rest, 'cause you would make the pieces too small!" He handed the knife over, only remember at the last second to do it handle first. There was a chant going on from the party-goers, _cake cake cake cake!_

Self-conscious and a little embarrassed, Matthew almost considered declining the offer, but a nudge from Arthur on one side gave him no chance. He took the knife and made the first cut in the monstrosity, wincing at the sheer volume of the cheers raised from the crowd. "Here," he said, passing the knife to Alfred and scurrying away.

At least... that had been his plan. Somehow, as it so frequently did, a foot made its way into his beeline and with a tiny noise of surprise, he found himself falling head-long into eight layers of stars-and-stripes-themed marble cake.

Everyone laughed, and Gilbert was too far away to see what had happened. He just hoped that Matthew would bring out some cake for him as well, because he didn't want to go in there and get some himself. After a minute the laughter died down, and Matthew reemerged from the crowd. One look at him and Gilbert knew what all the laughing was about. "Hey, looks like you _did_ bring me some cake!" He reached out a finger, taking some icing off the boy's cheek.

Matthew gave him a withering stare before a tiny, unpracticed smirk coiled on his face. "I did," he agreed, and wrapped Gilbert in a split-second bear hug before pulling away, laughing at the expression on the German's face. "It suits you," he snorted, smearing the red into blue under his eye as he brushed away a tear of mirth. "Don't think we'll ever get these shirts clean, though." He thought he had sobered until a piece of the rubbed-off cake plopped from Gilbert's chin to the ground. A peal of laughter rang out again from the young man.

"You suck, you know that? And I guess I mean that literally." Gilbert ate the icing from his face, and had to admit that it wasn't too bad. When his face was a little cleaner, he saw Elizaveta come out of the throng of people with her own piece of cake. He walked up to her and quickly grabbed her cake, and squished it in her face. "Looks great on you! I bet it's good moisturizer!"

She retorted with another person's cake, and they retorted as well, and within minutes there was a full out cake war going on.

Laughing and fleeing for his life, Matthew ducked, bumping into people as he tried to make his way out of the chaos. A rather sizable chunk of cake flew over his head and hit someone square in the face, eliciting a fresh war cry. When he felt a hand around his wrist he started, looking back to see the albino with a dangerous glint in his eye and an even more dangerous piece of cake in his hand. "Don't you dare!"

But Gilbert's hand was already flying through the air, and soon that cake was all over Matthew's hair, previously the only part of him not covered in cake. He laughed, smushing it in as much as he could. "You started it!" They weren't in the middle of the battlefield any longer, somehow managing to escape the mass, and they were both left just laughing together. "Come on, I'll drive you home. 'Cause you need a fucking bath." Well, at this point they all needed baths, but Matthew was positively covered.

"Look who's talking," he chuckled, following close behind while trying to sift the excess cake from his hair. "Ugh. Why do I have the feeling this won't ever come out?"

"Probably 'cause it won't. Look at the bright side; you probably won't need hair goop for like a week." He remembered that he had towels in his trunk, so they could sit on them to not get cake all over the car. That would be a bitch to get out.

"Are you insinuating that I use product?" he asked, perching himself on a towel once Gilbert had laid it out on the seat. When Gilbert was in the driver's seat, he shrugged and turned the car on. "I don't know, your hair looks like you use all girly type of shampoo and stuff." He himself used a shampoo conditioner and body wash combination, because he couldn't be bothered to buy all three.

Matthew hissed as a bit of icing dripped into his eye. "Ow. Don't be dumb, Gilbert. I use normal stuff, just like every other guy."

He stayed silent at that, thinking of when he had been pushing the cake into Matthew's hair. It felt so soft, almost like a girl's hair. There was no way he didn't use some special type of product on it.

Rolling down the window with his pinky, Matthew threw some of the larger bits out the window, and glanced curiously at Gilbert as he licked and sucked the rest off of his fingers. "So, my place or yours?"

"Um, well my place is closer and has two bathrooms." Yeah, that would be easier. And since it was already past midnight, he would let Matthew have the couch. The next day was a Sunday, after all.

After the adrenaline and excitement died down in his blood, he was left with a contented drowsiness. Matthew leaned back and closed his eyes, a chuckle that was more breath than laughter pushing from his lungs. "Two bathrooms, eh? Good thing. Wouldn't want to accidentally proposition a straight man in his own shower."

Glancing away from the road, Gilbert looked at him. "Well we both need showers, and we might as well have them at the same time so one of us isn't waiting around covered in fucking cake." He wasn't sure if that had been Matthew's idea of a snide comment, because coming from him, nothing sounded even remotely mean. Matthew laughed at that, uncertain of where the humor lay. He decided it was the "fucking cake" and repeated it under his breath, shaking his head.

At Gilbert's apartment, he made his way to the first bathroom he saw and stripped down, throwing his caked clothes over the shower rod, reminding himself to do something with them as soon as possible. Under the heated spray he scrubbed at his body until it was pink and he washed his hair thoroughly with some kind of German shampoo that smelled distinctly masculine. Though there was still a bit of blue and red dye in splotches all over his arms and face, it wasn't so bad, and when he hopped out, he could say that he almost had hope for his hair.

And then he remembered that he hadn't grabbed a towel before showering.

Peeking his head out the bathroom door, Matthew looked down the hall. "Gilbert?" he called, and was met only by the distant muffled sound of another shower. Listening intently to that noise, he dashed, buck naked and soaking wet, out of the bathroom and into the hall, quickly going through any closets or cabinets along the way. He became flustered and disorganized in his movements when the sound of the other shower went quiet.

In another minute, Gilbert was out of the shower, his own towel wrapped around his waist. He went out and at the flash of pale pink quickly turned back around. "They're not there. You should have just asked." He went back inside the bathroom he had used and grabbed a towel from where he kept them in there, and threw it out into the hall. "Tell me when you're decent!" Luckily he hadn't seen much, just a wet Matthew looking hurriedly through a closet.

"But I did!" he said, quickly wrapping the towel around his waist and blushing down to his shoulders. He quickly shuffled back to the bathroom and paused when he looked inside, lightly banging his head against the doorframe. Slowly he made his way back to Gilbert's bathroom and knocked on the door so lightly that he wasn't even sure Gilbert could've heard it. "Giiil," he whined softly.

He opened the door, already dressed with his hair still wet. He looked to Matthew who was still just in a towel. "That's hardly decent."

Matthew held on to the towel with one hand, self-consciously attempting to hide his chest with his arm. "My clothes are all cake-y."

"Oh. Yeah." He went into his room and searched around in his drawers until he found some clothes that would probably fit him. "Here you go. I'll be watching TV." He watched as Matthew walked towards the bathroom, and thought that he kind of walked like a girl, his hips all sway-y and… stuff. Weird.

Matthew threw his thanks over his shoulder and slipped into the bathroom, pulling the clothes on over his body. The white t-shirt was a little more... snug than he was used to, and he tried not to stretch it as he tugged at the hem that clung tightly to his waist. The pajama pants were much more comfortable, though, practically falling off his hips in all of their beer stein-print glory.

Walking to the living room, he started toweling off the top of his head and grimaced at the feel of cool rivulets trickling down his neck. "What are you watching?"

"MANswers. Get your clothes, I'll throw them in the laundry." He stood up and went to get his clothes as well. "Those pants don't really fit you well do they? Oh well, it'll have to do for tonight anyway."

Matt retrieved his clothes and came back, hiking the pants up higher on his hips. "So what's it about? The show."

As he took the clothes and threw them into the washer, Gilbert answered. "You've never heard of it? It's a show answering questions for men. Like how big are the biggest boobs, can you die from diarrhea, how to kill a bear, stuff like that. It's hilarious!"

The Canadian rolled his eyes. "Because that's all relevant information. That totally sounds like something Alfred would watch."

"Hey, I'm sure there are important things for gay guys too. Like... oh! One episode said how big you can stretch your asshole." He hadn't stayed to find out though, because he really didn't want to know that.

Matthew 's face burned a bright red. "I..! T-that's not something I... I mean..." He retreated, tripping a little on the falling pants.

Gilbert laughed a little and sat down on the couch. "Come on, watch it with me. I'm sure you'll find it funny." Even with all the girls in it. But hey, even Elizaveta liked to watch it, so it wasn't all about the girls with big boobs in skimpy clothes. Or so he was told.

Matthew perched himself on the couch and made himself comfortable. He glanced at Gilbert and, knowing what was expected of him, he waited for just the right moment before chiming, "Ew. Breasts."

"And what a fine pair of breasts they are." Gilbert laughed, looking at the brunette in the nurse outfit. He surprised himself with not caring that much that Matthew didn't like the boobs. Maybe he was getting better, more open minded. Or maybe he was just hypnotized with those knockers.

They did nothing to excite Matthew, though, and a combination of the lulling background noise of the television, the plush sofa, the warm pajamas, and the cozy atmosphere, he felt himself slowly nodding off, his head falling to the back of the sofa.

When the episode was finished, Gilbert gave a yawn and looked over to Matthew, to find him fast asleep. Oh well, he was going to sleep on the couch anyway. He turned off the TV and went to find him a blanket.

"Goodnight. I hope you liked your party," he said, slightly quieter than he normally would. Then he went to his own room to sleep the rest of the night away, feeling oddly… content.


	5. Chapter 5

Updates will now be back on their regular schedule. Thank you guys for your patience. Extra long chapter for you. ;D

* * *

The morning greeted Gilbert with a sweet scent drifting lazily through the apartment. It must have been terribly enticing, as the scent alone was all it took to rouse him from the bed and lead his feet to the kitchen. Matthew stood at the stove, one side of the pajamas nearly completely off his hip as he lifted a skillet, and with the flick of his wrist, a pancake went flying in the air and sailed back down, landing with a bubble-pop of hot oil.

The Canadian whistled a quiet, cheerful tune as he set it back on the burner.

Gilbert swore to himself afterward that the only reason he stared at Matthew's butt for a few seconds was because he was still half asleep, and didn't know what he was doing. "What are you making?" He mumbled, scratching his head, making his normally messy hair even messier.

Matthew glanced over his shoulder at the rumpled-looking man and grinned. "Pancakes. They're my specialty. Never fails to get Alfred out of bed." He slid the hotcake onto a plate already stacked fairly high and poured some more batter onto the oiled skillet. "Help yourself. Glad to see you have some halfway decent maple syrup."

He sat down and looked at the food, quickly stabbing three with his fork and putting them on his plate. "Man, I haven't had pancakes in forever. The syrup is for my toaster waffles." When he wasn't running late of course. If he needed to eat them on the run, he was lucky if he got to put butter on them.

"It's a family recipe. Melts in your mouth," he said proudly, brushing the hair out of his face with the back of his hand, accidentally smearing a bit of batter on his temple. He flipped the pancake in the air, humming as it landed perfectly back in the skillet.

Soon Gilbert was digging into the fluffy goodness, and gave a little moan. "God, I should have you over every morning to make these things! I bet you could make a living selling them." Or maybe he could just pop over to Matthew's house every once in a while and get him to make some.

"I don't think you could afford my services," he joked with a little grin, sliding the last one off onto a plate. He put it on the table and washed his hands in the sink before joining Gilbert and taking a couple for himself.

Mouth half full, Gilbert tried to pout. "Fuck that, I'm your friend, you should make them for me for free. Just because I'm awesome." He was already half way through his first one, and kept going.

"Oh, I see how it is," he said, cutting a piece off with his fork and chewing on it thoughtfully. "Sort of an obligatory 'get in the kitchen and make me a sandwich' deal, eh?"

Gilbert shook his head and made sure to swallow this time. "No, not a sandwich; this is way better than a sandwich. Besides you should be happy, I'm complimenting your food. And anyway, I was so nice last night, letting you use my shower and sleep over, so you should return the favor. By making these for me like all the time."

Matthew only laughed, shaking his head and finishing two of the pancakes before standing and taking his dishes to the sink to wash them.

"That was good. Thanks for making that. Um, I'll get your clothes from the dryer, so you can change and I can take you home."

Matthew smiled at the compliment and took his plate, washing that in the sudsy sink, too.

Once he was back in his own clothes, with a good night's rest and a breakfast filling his belly, Matthew felt quite chipper indeed. The car ride home was pleasant enough, and when Gilbert pulled up to the apartment parking lot, Matthew turned to him with a smile. "Thank you for letting me stay over. And washing my clothes." He unbuckled his seatbelt. "Feel free to come over for pancakes whenever you like."

* * *

"Hey Matt, can I come over? Is Alfred there? Okay, good. I have a... movie that we should watch. Okay, see you in a few." Gilbert hung up his phone and grinned. Best prank ever! He couldn't wait to see Matthew's face when he brought over the porno that he rented. It was going to be priceless! He got into his car, the DVD in his coat pocket. It had been about a month since Matthew's party, and since then he had been over to the Canadian's home more and more for morning pancakes. Even after so long, they still tasted as good as the first time.

When he arrived, Matt greeted him at the door with a smile. "Hello, stranger," he said, opening the door wide enough for Gilbert to come in. "I was making dinner when you called. I hope you're cool with bratwurst instead of popcorn," he said, knowing very well that the albino would be.

"Awesome! Reminds me of Germany!" He had moved the DVD to a bag so that he could reveal it at just the right time, like maybe when Matthew was drinking water or something so he would have a spit take. "Besides, I don't think popcorn would really go with this movie anyway."

"Oh yeah?" Matthew asked, only half listening. He forked the thick sausages out of the pan and on to two plates with two rather large helpings of salad. He handed one plate to Gilbert with a fork and made himself comfy on the sofa. "You can help yourself to whatever you'd like to drink," he said, taking a sip of the ice water on the coaster beside him.

He looked at the food and held back a smirk. They were going to eat sausage while watching porn! This was just too good. He went to the fridge and got some beer. Unfortunately it was stupid American beer, even worse than Canadian beer. But oh well, it would just have to do. "Alright, I'll just... put it in shall I?" He had to turn away that time so Matthew wouldn't see him laugh.

Matthew nibbled on his salad, his head cocked very slightly to the side. He noticed with no shortage of curiosity the slight trembling of Gilbert's shoulders. "You're either laughing or crying, and neither are ever a good sign with you," he said monotonously.

"Where's the trust, Mattie?" In a few seconds it was in the machine, and Gilbert jumped back to the couch. "Press play! Come on!" It was gonna be great! Not to mention he was going to be able to watch porn, which was always a good time.

A bit uneasily now that Gilbert wasn't telling him anything and seemed way too excited for any normal movie, almost hesitantly did Matthew press play. When the title flashed across the screen, Matthew balked. "... You did not just bring a porno over," he said incredulously, the salad on the fork forgetting its trek to his mouth in midair.

"Don't worry, I thought of you and made sure the guy was hot." Or at least what he thought would be hot for a guy. The movie started, the girl with her legs wide open and only booty shorts on. The guy was in the background, groping her boobs. "Is he your type?"

Matthew just groaned, burying his face in his hands. "You're the _last_person I'd expect to ask such a thing," he mumbled, warily peeking out from between his fingers. He examined the man with a critical eye. "No. He's not my type. Too short. Too tan. Satisfied?"

Gilbert laughed a little and watched as she started moving the booty shorts down. "Yeah. She's not really my type either. I like blonds more." But she was still pretty good. "So... what _is_your type? Tall... pale and handsome?"

The flushed Canadian eyed his food with great interest. "I'm just gonna eat now." He quickly set to work on his salad, wincing as the rather breasty girl gave a breathy giggle and the ghastly porn music started.

"Come on, don't you like muscular hairy guys? I heard that that's what gay guys usually like." At least that's what he had learned from the Internet. Somehow he just couldn't picture Matthew with a really big guy. Not that he would picture Matthew like that with anyone, of course.

Hastily swallowing a mouthful of lettuce, the Canadian coughed. "Why the sudden interest in my preferences?" he asked accusingly, hoping to deflect the question with one of his own.

Crossing his arms, Gilbert stared intently at the movie. "Just trying to make conversation, god. You don't have to get all defensive about it. I mean I would tell you my type if you asked." He put his feet up on the coffee table, getting more comfortable.

"Dumb blondes with rather sizable chests, I'd imagine," Matthew responded, surprising himself at the sheer level of dry snark in his tone.

"Long legs, not too much of an ass, just enough to grab, long fingers, no nail polish, 'cause that just looks stupid. Blue eyes, small mouth, blond hair. And yeah, big boobs." And now that he told Matthew exactly what he liked, he could expect the same.

Matthew grumbled, glancing up to catch a glimpse of slippery lady bits that didn't particularly entice him. "Ugh. Um. I guess I don't really... have a type. Not really. Not judging by my past endeavors, anyway. I just know he's not it."

Now Gilbert crossed his legs to hide his growing erection. "So what, just any gay guy that doesn't look like him will do?" He watched intently as they started fucking, but unfortunately it didn't have a very good view point so he couldn't see much.

Matthew nearly felt a physical pain at the volume and intensity the woman onscreen portrayed her... er... passion. "Well, no... aside from physical attraction, I don't really consider dating someone unless there's some kind of mental or emotional connection as well." Not that Gilbert cared. The very words 'mental' and 'emotional' probably put him in lethargy.

"I guess I would go for that too if I actually dated the girl. Personally I find girlfriends too much of a hassle." Gilbert glanced over and saw a large blush on Matthew's face. He wondered what he would look like if they were watching gay porn, since that should turn him on more, right? It only made sense. But he would never want to watch gay porn. Well. Maybe just to get someone to take a picture of Matthew watching it. So that he could laugh at it.

"I dated a girl once," Matthew said offhandedly, mild disinterest on his face as he watched the two on the screen merge in such showy, fake fashion. "Ukrainian. She was very pretty, very kind, and..." He reached back in his foggy high school memory. "And she was an f-cup. She wasn't demanding, and she was very understanding, but I just didn't... you know. Go for it. I couldn't be attracted to the ideal girl, and I think that's when I realized that I was gay."

Gilbert looked at him, eyes wide. "Wait... _how the hell did you get a girl with an f-cup?_That's just not fair! A gay guy like you who hardly talks to anyone gets a chick with huge boobs? Did you even feel them? Tell me what they felt like! The largest I've felt was an e-cup."

Matt shrugged, stabbing the wurst on his plate with the fork. "I assume just like any other breasts but… heavier. We didn't get very far sexually."

"That's so stupid. Maybe you're like a little puppy, a complete chick magnet. Do you think if I put you on a leash and paraded you around I would get a bunch of girls with f-cups?" But then he thought about what that would look like, and quickly shook his head, dismissing the sudden throb in his cock. "Fuck, forget I even said that. We'll just leave it at you are a very lucky bastard who doesn't even appreciate it."

"I can appreciate some things," he said defensively, taking a delicate bite of the thick sausage. "But that doesn't mean I _desire_them."

Gilbert muted the movie, because he really hated the sounds the girls made in them. They always sounded so staged. "Yeah, you probably appreciate their shoe collection or something," he said with a laugh, and remembered his own food. However, with an erection that was getting even more painful by the minute, he didn't feel like eating something that looked like a penis.

Matthew chuckled, licking a bit of the rich juice dripping down the side, unaware of Gilbert's probing gaze. "Oh yeah. My ratty sneaker collection is so totally chic right now."

"Well I don't know what gay guys like." God dammit, he usually didn't get this hard just from a porno! He wasn't even touching himself. The worst part of it was that Matthew was right there so he couldn't just randomly jerk off! "Uh, I'm going to the bathroom."

"What? Oh. Okay." He glanced up just in time to see Gilbert fly by with hands hastily covering his crotch.

Oh.

_Oh._

He blushed, hastily turning back to his food. He guessed brunettes really were Gilbert's type, after all.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later Gilbert was back out of the bathroom. Damn why did it take so long? It had taken him longer than it usually did when on his own. "Uh sorry about that... I found that magazine in there. Interesting read." Well, he _had_seen a magazine.

Matthew offered a little awkward smile in return. He hoped his cheeks weren't too red. "Yeah. Gotta love Arthur's _Literary Monthly_." He cleared his throat, looking at the TV. "So your movie finished. The climax was a little lacking, but it wasn't terrible. Ha. Pun."

"Oh yeah? Did she lick herself clean after?" He asked with a laugh, not really expecting Matthew to answer.

The Canadian shuffled to the kitchen with his empty plate. "I don't think she could have, um... reached her forehead with her tongue. Not with much success, anyway."

Gilbert gave a laugh at that, and took the DVD out and put it back in its case. "But all in all, wasn't that bad right? Is it much different than gay porn? You know, besides the fact that there are two guys."

Matthew shrugged, turning on the hot water and filling the sink with bubbles. "Well, for one, he didn't really seem too gentlemanly when she was going down on him. That's actually rather common in straight porn; the men aren't very nice about it. Most of the time, it's different with gay porn." He tied his hair back sloppily so that it wouldn't fall into his eyes. "I mean, if a person is willing to... you know... put your junk in their mouth, the least you could do is act a little grateful. Instead of trying to choke them."

"Well, I guess it's 'cause straight porn is basically for straight men, not women, so guys like shoving their dicks in a girl's mouth. Gay guys know what it's like so you don't like it as much." Gilbert finished his beer and brought his plate to the sink as well. "Like, I know that I wouldn't want a dick in my mouth, even if I was a chick. But I love my dick in someone else's mouth."

"Even if she's not blonde and well endowed?" Matthew asked, not really wanting an answer. He took the plate from Gilbert's hands and dropped it into the foamy warmth.

He thought about it a minute. "Well, I don't really have to have a blond. I mean Liz isn't blond and we've done some stuff." Not for a while of course. That was more to the beginning of their friendship, when they didn't know each other as well.

"But she's incredibly beautiful," he said, focused on scrubbing away at the dishes. "I really don't see why you two aren't official. It's obvious that you're close."

Gilbert laughed pretty loudly at that. "Are you kidding? With Liz? No, we would kill each other by the second date. Wouldn't last a week." Pretty much the only thing she was good for was a good argument, and sometimes telling him what he needed to hear.

Matthew gave in. If Gilbert didn't see how that classified a good number of functional relationships in the present day, he didn't believe that he ever would.

* * *

Upon the albino's discovery of a disappointing shortage of alcohol in the apartment, one quick change of clothes later they were out the door and down the street. It wasn't very far from Arthur's pub to an actual liquor store, and since Matthew was more or less an errand boy at his brother's house, he knew the way well.

It was a mild afternoon, the sky blotted with clouds, the rest a dazzling deep blue. A comfortable breeze passed by every now and then as the late afternoon sun made its way down to the horizon. Sighing, Gilbert put his hands in his pockets. "You should really keep more beer in the house. Then we wouldn't have to do this." Just for fun he bumped his shoulder into Matthew, pushing him sideways on the sidewalk.

Stumbling only a little, Matthew smiled and bumped back. "Don't you dare say that around Alfred. I get jostled out of bed often enough to make alcohol runs, he doesn't need another excuse."

Down the sidewalk a ways, two girls were looking at them and seemed to be discussing something, pointing occasionally. Eventually they came up to them, one walking in front of the other. "Um hi, sorry my friend is a little shy," the one in front was saying. "She just thought you two were really cute together, and was wondering how long you have been a couple." The shy one hit her friend; obviously she wasn't supposed to say that.

Gilbert stood with his mouth open, not sure what to say. Normally if someone called him gay he would yell at them and maybe hit them. But these girls were pretty hot, and the one in the back had really big boobs. Matthew was dumbfounded. He was mentally bracing himself for Gilbert's eruption, but when it didn't come and didn't come, he became worried and slowly peeked over at his friend. Gilbert looked utterly shell-shocked, either by the comment or the shy girl's rather large breasts, and he quickly wrapped his fingers around the German's arm and began tugging him into the nearest door he could see. "Oh, look, a movie store! Sorry, he's straight as a board, we're just friends, it was very nice meeting you, but we're very nearly late for an appointment, and we really need some... movies, so goodbye!"

Once they were inside and away from those breasts, Gilbert remembered how to talk. "What the hell was with those two? We don't look like a couple! And what was with that 'We look cute together', we just look normal! Like normal guys! But man she had great boobs. I bet even you could appreciate them. Were they as big as your ex-girlfriend's?" Maybe if people were starting to think they were a couple, they should stop hanging around each other so much. But as soon as he thought it, Gilbert dismissed it. So what if people thought they were a couple? They could just go fuck themselves.

Matthew shuffled further in the store, his head down. Was it really necessary for Gilbert to deny it so vehemently? "'Bout half as big," he mumbled, just to spite the German.

"Yeah, whatever. Hey look! I've wanted to see this movie! We should rent it." He picked out the case and showed it to Matthew. "I mean, I promised you a movie and you didn't really watch the last one."

Peeking over just to make sure it wasn't a porno, Matthew sighed, happy to see that it was a relatively normal movie. "Well, all right, but Arthur and Alfred are in tonight. It's Arthur's night off, and Alfred always keeps him over on nights like these." He watched Gilbert out of the corner of his eye, almost nervous about what his reaction might be.

He just grumbled and went to the counter to rent the movie. "They'll probably be in their room fucking or something, right? Just tell them to keep their voices down." Because if he heard even one moan, he would probably kill someone.

"You don't have to stay," Matthew said quietly, browsing the shelf. "It's fine. You already brought a movie, like you said you would, and Alfred isn't exactly... discrete."

"Well, stand up to him for a change and _make_him be discrete. You should learn to stand up for yourself. Even if you're gay, I'm sure even you don't wanna hear your brother getting it on." Because that would be fucked up. He should know. He once accidentally walked in on his brother tying himself up.

"I normally just go on a walk or listen to music when they start," he said, picking up a case and glancing over the back. "I'd move out, but none of the places I've applied at have called me back, and the only place I can think of that would hire me..." He thought back on it with a grimace. "I-it's just not an option."

Gilbert shrugged and walked out of the store after making sure that the girls were long gone. "Wouldn't it be easier to just tell them to shut the fuck up or go to Arthur's house? That seems like a better option, everything considered."

"I wouldn't impose on Arthur like that," he said, surprised that Gilbert could say such a thing. "And Alfred's always there for me when I need him, so I can't just start making selfish demands. It's not so bad, really. I'll find a job eventually."

He rolled his eyes and turned around, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. "It's not a selfish demand to tell them to go somewhere else where no one can hear them. They shouldn't be kicking you out of the house when they fuck, especially if Arthur's house is just as good." It really pissed him off sometimes how Matthew refused confrontation even if he was being taken advantage of. Of course, some people could argue that Gilbert also took advantage of him, but all he did was get him to have a drink or something so they could have a good time.

Matthew looked back at him, rubbing his neck uncomfortably. "It's Alfred's place," he said quietly. "He can do what he wants. And I'm not going to ask him not to be with the one he loves in his own home. Because I know he would probably do it if I asked him to, and that's not fair to either of them."

"God, be more selfish sometimes." Gilbert said, ruffling Matthew's hair. "You're too nice for your own good."

The Canadian frowned, punching him in the shoulder before a shy smile broke out across his face. "Does hockey season count as 'sometimes'?"

"Hockey season? Uh I don't know, why? You're more selfish when hockey is on?" He gave a little laugh and they started walking again. Gilbert put the DVD in his pocket so he could put both his hands in his hoodie.

"Mm... I don't know about 'selfish.' It's kind of a blur. Hockey season begins, and I sort of..." He looked up, considering terminology. "Black out? Yeah, that's a good way to put it. When it's over, I wake up, and Al's always a little nervous around me, and... well, I've heard some pretty unbelievable stories. So I'm not really as nice as you think." He elbowed Gilbert, grinning. "Sometimes I can be a wild beast."

He laughed hard and elbowed him back. "I can't imagine you as a wild beast! Like normally you're like a tame kitten, so the worst you could do would be an angry cat. Very far from a wild beast." But the thought was kind of amusing.

Matthew peeked into the window of Arthur's bar as they walked past. A little rectangle of light illuminated the sidewalk from inside as dusk took the town in its velveteen blue hold. "Just wait. You might be surprised in a big way."

Unlocking the door to the apartment when they reached it, Matthew peeked in and gave a call of warning. "I'm home, and I brought a friend!"

There was a quick scuffle from the direction of the kitchen, and Arthur's insistent voice to get dressed. Gilbert really didn't want to know what they were doing in there of all places. "So that means don't come out here naked, and keep your voices down."

"Gilbert!" Matthew hissed, pulling him inside and immediately through the alcove to the right where his bedroom was. Shutting the door behind, he glanced up at Gilbert. "Just give them a couple of minutes and they'll be decent. This really is the safest place from catching a peek. The only safe place, actually."

"They can't even keep it in his room? Seriously, you guys eat in that kitchen! Gross!" He would never want to eat here again. And wait, did that mean that they did it in almost every room in this house? Oh God, that image would never be erased from his mind.

"Well, do you just keep it in _your_bedroom?" Matthew asked, regretting almost immediately. He really didn't want to know what Gilbert did, or where, with his variety of sexual partners.

He sat on the bed, crossing his arms. "I live alone, it's different. Besides, I wouldn't do it in the kitchen!" He at least wanted some type of soft surface, and the kitchen was not a very comfortable place to be doing it. "Where do _you_normally fuck?"

"Oh wow. Totally not something you need to know," he said quickly. The heat of his face could rival the sun's, he decided, and pressed his ear to the door to hear Arthur's voice telling Alfred something hurried and muffled.

Gilbert shrugged and looked around the room. The only other time he had been in here before was the morning after they had gotten drunk that first time, and he hadn't really seen much besides the bed. It was a smallish room, there was a large Canadian flag on the back of the door, and... "Why do you have a teddy bear?"

Matthew glanced back. "Because he's stuck with me for over two decades. He's the most loyal friend I've ever had." He wasn't at all ashamed of Kumajiro, and Gilbert... well, maybe he didn't need to know it, but it felt good to have it out there. "Best listener ever."

The German stared at him for a moment, before breaking the eye contact and looking back to the bear. "That might just be the saddest thing you've ever said." He picked him up, noticing that his once-white hair was now a light gray, and at all the obvious signs of age.

"Tough nuts," Matthew huffed. "I won't have you insulting Kuma, so don't even think about it." Before Gilbert could put the stuffed toy down, he took it from him, cradling the plush against his chest. "Surely you've got some kind of comfort object that you rely on when you're lonely."

He started wondering how long they would have to wait in here. "I don't know, usually when I'm lonely I just grab onto my dick. Or beer. Beer's good too." So did that mean that his penis was his comfort object?

Groaning, Matthew buried his face into Kumajiro's soft white belly. "I didn't mean sexually-" A knock cut off the rest of his statement. Arthur poked his head in, a sheepish expression on his face.

"Ah. Hello."

"Finally! Stopped fucking long enough to greet your guest?" Gilbert got up and pushed the door open the rest of the way, pulling Matthew out by his wrist. "We're gonna watch a movie, so you guys keep it in your room and voices down. If I hear one moan, I swear to God I'll-"

"Gilbert!" Matthew said, and grabbed Gilbert's wrist. He turned apologetic eyes to Arthur and opened his mouth when the Brit held up a hand to silence him.

"That's quite all right. We were planning to stay in and perhaps watch a film as well. Mind if we join you?"

Alfred came out of his own room, now fully dressed, to just hear the last part. "What? Are you serious? I don't wanna watch a movie with him!" He pointed to Gilbert, who was giving him the finger. Arthur went to whisper something in his ear, and he suddenly calmed down. "Really? With your tongue? Well, I guess I can stand a movie with him..."

Matthew gingerly pushed Gilbert toward the living room before he could make a big deal of it and when the German was properly shoved into the couch, he retreated to the kitchen to make popcorn. To the far right, Alfred took the loveseat and draped himself across it, pulling a vaguely unwilling Arthur down into his lap.

They all waited in relative silence -relative because Arthur kept moving around to get more comfortable on Alfred's lap- for Matthew to return and start the movie. The popcorn started popping, and in a few minutes he brought out two big bowls. Gilbert took one and put it on the couch beside him so he and Matthew could share it, and pressed play.

The opening scene was predictable enough; the hero had a perfect life; a beautiful and sweet wife, a rather sizable house, an enviable job, all just begging to be mangled by some elaborate and ambiguously ironic scheme. Matthew could only smile faintly and shake his head at every noise of disapproval his brother and Gilbert made in tandem at the perfect times, his buttery fingers accidentally slipping against Gilbert's on occasion when they both reached for popcorn at the same time.

Half way through the movie, the popcorn was gone so Gilbert put the bowl on the table. "Oh man, I bet that guy is gonna die!" he said quietly to Matthew. "I mean he cheated on his wife! The cheaters always die." Little did he know, Alfred was saying almost the exact same thing to Arthur.

Matthew just smiled and nodded, leaning over to whisper back, "And how much do you want to bet that his wife is actually the one behind the whole thing?"

"Oh! I didn't think of that! Do you really think a girl could pull all this off?" That would be one crazy bitch. But really, it was usually a man that ended up being the bad guy. Just when he was about to say something about that, a gun went off and the guy was dead. "See? I totally called it!"

"Well, sure. The unimportant friend almost always dies," Matthew said matter-of-factly, reaching for the bowl of popcorn that he'd forgotten wasn't there. "But yeah, I'm betting on the wife. I've been force-fed these kinds of movies my entire life. It all adds up, if you think about it. Women are scary."

As the movie went on, the conversation trickled down to nothing as the tension mounted. But suddenly Gilbert felt something on his shoulder, and looked to find that Matthew had fallen asleep, his head resting against him. Oh well, it was his problem that he was going to miss the best part.

Across the room a little snicker was emitted, garnering his attention. "Cozy?" Alfred asked in a tone of sweet mockery, cuddling the Brit against his chest.

"At least we weren't making out half the movie like you guys were!" It took Gilbert a second or two to realize what that sounded like. "Fuck. I mean, not that we would make out, 'cause we don't make out! I'm straight, mothefucker!"

Matthew stirred a little, frowning in his sleep. Arthur tutted the both of them. "Come now, you're going to wake the poor boy up with your pointless bickering." Alfred quieted down marginally, though still giving pointed glances and making silly faces at Gilbert.

Gilbert once again gave him the finger, but then they both watched the movie since it was the climax, and it was revealed that... it was the woman all along! So Matthew was right after all. She went on a long winded speech about why and how she did it, like all villains, which was her inevitable downfall when the hero rushed in to save the day and kill the bitch. Gilbert moved his shoulder to wake Matthew up. "The movie's over."

Groaning a little, Matthew grabbed his arm and buried his face into it, mumbling something nearly incoherent that may have been somewhere along the lines of, "Mmnrgh, Kuma, _shhh_." Alfred cackled, effortlessly lifting Arthur in his arms and hefting him over a shoulder, though not without protest. The title screen of the DVD played its music on a loop in the background as he saluted the two with a wink and left for the bedroom, turning out all the lights along the way.

"Matt, just because I'm pale doesn't mean I'm your stuffy," Gilbert said, trying to get his arm away from the sleepy blond. It wasn't really working, though. "Seriously, you should go to bed!" But when Matthew just tightened his grip, he sighed and took a page from Alfred's book, just lifting him up. Matthew didn't seem disturbed at all by the motion, a noise of contentment vibrating low in his throat. He found a warm spot in the crook of Gilbert's neck and nuzzled him there. He was the most comfortable he had ever been.

… At least until Gilbert stubbed his toe in the dark. Gasping awake at the violent string of swears, Matthew's entire body jerked. "What's going on?"

"Fucking shit table! Why the hell would you put a fucking table there?" Gilbert congratulated himself on not having dropped Matthew, but now that he was awake he put him hastily down on the floor. "Fuck ow, I think it's bleeding."

Matthew felt around in a disoriented daze for the light switch and found it, crouching down on the floor at Gilbert's feet and doing his best to blink away the bright spots of light popping in front of his eyes. He grabbed Gilbert's ankle from midair and gently pulled it closer, examining his toes. "Not bleeding, just red," he assured, blowing on it before catching himself.

"Well it fucking hurts like it's bleeding! Anyway, you're awake now so go to bed. I'm sleeping on the couch, so where's a blanket?"

"You can take my bed," he offered automatically, and waved his hands about when Gilbert gave him a look. "I'll take the couch! I wasn't planning on sleeping with you!"

He looked at him, a bit suspicious, but shrugged. "Alright, if you're offering." He went into the room and saw the stuffy on the bed. He picked it up and went back outside. "I'm guessing with how much you were cuddling me, you still sleep with him, right?"

Matthew's eyes took on a certain hopelessness. He couldn't even grab for Kumajiro. "I didn't..."

"Oh yeah you did. Couldn't get my arm back. That's why I had to carry you." Gilbert passed him the bear and went back into the room so he could save Matthew at least some of his dignity. "Goodnight!"

Matthew groaned quietly into his bear and retreated to the sofa to spend a few minutes wallowing in misery before he drifted back to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry for being a day late, gaiz. You know, life and stuff. Sometimes business grabs you by the balls and just doesn't let go. What's a ho to do?

* * *

Gilbert knocked on the door, his stomach already grumbling. He hadn't had Matthew's pancakes for almost a week! He had said that he was doing a bunch of tests, so he couldn't stop studying just to make him pancakes. But now it was Saturday, and Matt had finished his tests the day before.

Muffled but rather loud music could be heard blasting from deep inside, and for quite a few minutes on end, Gilbert received no answer. It was obvious that there was someone at home, but perhaps the thrumming bass and crashing symbols, boisterous trombone, and... was that a ukulele? No way was that a ukulele. Matthew was blasting some weird-ass music for sure. And he wasn't being very responsive at all. Pancakes must be had. Action must be taken.

He remembered that Alfred hardly ever locked the door, so Gilbert tried it and sure enough it opened. Thank you Al for being so forgetful. He went inside, and couldn't see Matthew anywhere, but the music just seemed to get louder. "Matt? You here?"

And he was. He was in his bathroom, stepping out of the shower, singing along to himself with the deafening music blasting from his room. He swayed a little bit, curling his toes in the fuzzy white rug, rivulets of water dripping and flowing down his pale body. He reached over the sink, wiping a circle in the foggy glass to see himself better, if only barely.

Matthew had brushed his teeth, put on his deodorant, and glanced at the clock more out of habit than necessity before he remembered the slow roast that Arthur had put in the oven the night before.

"Crap!"

He burst from the bathroom and into the hall, cursing under his breath something about being flayed alive for dry meat before- "Gack!"... running full-force into some tall, solid obstruction in the middle of the hall.

"Oof!" Gilbert said before they both went crashing down to the floor. Matthew was splayed out on top of him, and it wasn't until he felt something wet hit his cheek that he realized that he must have just come out of the shower, and was naked as a jaybird.

"Aaaghh!" Matthew cried in pain, his head falling over Gilbert's shoulder as he relieved his elbows of his body weight. They stung and throbbed from hitting the hardwood floor at full force. Matthew whimpered from the pain jolting up his arms in sharp little tingles.

Gilbert looked at him and saw his scraped elbows. He tried pulling them closer so he could see the damage, but it was kind of awkward since Matthew was still on top of him. "Here, let me see."

Matthew shook his wet head against Gilbert's shoulder, biting his lip furiously. "Nn... it'll be fine in a minute... just hurts... g-gimme a minute..." Matthew tried getting up, but just ended up falling back down. Gilbert sighed and grabbed him by the side. "Okay, let's try this." He flipped them over so that he was now kneeling above the Canadian. It was only then that he realized just how close they were... And how nice Matthew smelt after his shower...

The Canadian noticed Gilbert leaning closer and assumed that he was trying to get a clearer look at his elbows, so Matthew tried to oblige, leaning up himself. He had presumed that the German would follow his motion and back up, but much to his surprise, his cheek brushed against Gilbert's. His breath hitched in his chest, and very suddenly, he realized exactly the position they were in. He froze, half thrilled, half terrified of how violent Gilbert's reaction would be.

Suddenly, before any other moves could break the heavy silence, a hiss sounded from nearby and Gilbert felt a sharp pain in his other cheek. He reeled back, finding a very small cat attacking his face. "Achk!" He tried getting the cat off, but it just seemed to attach itself more firmly to the skin of his cheeks. Matthew scrambled forward, grabbing the hissing kitten from Gilbert's face. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry, oh my gosh," he rambled, holding the suddenly docile creature against his naked chest with one hand. With the other he reached to Gilbert, grabbing his chin when he flinched back. "Hold still. Let me see."

The memory of what he had almost done still fresh in his mind, Gilbert pulled back and stood up. "Fucking cat what the hell!" He winced as he felt one of the long scratches, and tried not to think of what just happened. He couldn't have just almost kissed Matthew!

"Oh, yeah. We got a kitten. She's cute, I swear." Matthew glanced down to prove it and noticed very suddenly his distinct lack of clothing. "Holy great fuck, Gilbert, turn around!" He held the mewling kitten in his lap to hide himself.

"It's not like I haven't seen it before," Gilbert grumbled and went to look for a mirror. He couldn't let his awesome face get scarred! He had just almost kissed Matthew. And possibly the worst part of it was, he wasn't sure if he was glad the cat distracted them or disappointed.

Matthew made sure to hold the cat in front of his crotch as he dashed to his bedroom, slamming the door. He threw on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, making a face at the way the articles stuck to him. He would've grabbed a towel in the bathroom, but Gilbert was there, and that was just... He groaned, leaning against the bedroom door. He seemed to be terribly good at doing things that would make Gilbert hate him.

In the bathroom, Gilbert was putting toilet paper everywhere he was bleeding. It worked for when you cut yourself with the razor, so this should work as well. He hoped none of the scratches would be permanent, but it might take a while for them all to go away completely. "Fuck. I hate cats." Now there were two beings in Matthew's house that hated him. But... even the thought of not visiting Matt... Crap, was gay contagious or something?

Eventually, Matthew sucked it up and crept out of his bedroom door directly across to the bathroom. He watched Gilbert sticking toilet paper on his face and laughed quietly, shuffling closer. "Did you disinfect it?"

"No, I -fuck- I don't know much about that shit. Usually I just ignore a cut unless it's really bad. Then I just put a band-aide on it." He tried to smile, but one cut along his lip hurt when he stretched it. "Guess your cat doesn't like me then."

"She just has to get used to you. You're a bit of an acquired taste." Matthew put the fuzzy blue toilet lid down and patted the seat. "Sit."

Doing as he was told, Gilbert waited for the sting as soon as the Canadian put some blue stuff on the cuts. "Do I have like rabies now or something?" Because that would really suck to be foaming at the mouth and everything.

Matthew smiled, bending over him and gently dabbing off the excess antiseptic with a cotton ball. "Maple's had her shots. Plus, I don't think you can contract rabies from kitten claws. Wow, she got you good. Poor thing." He brushed Gilbert's bottom lip with his thumb without much thought.

He inhaled slightly in surprise. Fuck, he should not be here just minutes after that... whatever that was on the floor! Gilbert stood up quickly, sidestepping Matthew. "Uh yeah, well Elizaveta's mom was a nurse, so I think I'll go ask her. Like you never know, maybe I need like a tetanus shot or something. I'll, uh, see you around."

"O-oh. Okay."

Matthew watched him go, and felt something clench in his chest. He leapt up before the front door closed and called after Gilbert, holding onto the door. "W-wait...!"

Gilbert paused at the door, staying a little ways away so that something like that wouldn't happen again. Because he didn't want to be gay, he really didn't, and that almost seemed to be what was happening. He didn't want Matthew too close for comfort. Didn't he?

The younger opened his mouth, trying so hard to find the words. "Are you mad?" he finally asked quietly.

"No, I'm not mad. Well, I'm mad at that cat actually. These are gonna take forever to go away!" Gilbert exclaimed, pointing to his face. "But I'm more, uh... confused I guess. I'll see you later. Probably tomorrow for pancakes."

He knew Gilbert didn't lie, but Matthew still flinched when the door slammed shut behind him.

* * *

Perhaps the worry wasn't unfounded. Gilbert didn't return the next day, or the _next_day, or the day after that. A week passed without a single word from Gilbert, and Matthew was miserable. He was lonely and full of regret, knowing that he must have done something wrong, even if he didn't know what it was.

On the eighth day since Gilbert had disappeared, when Alfred told Matthew that he would be staying over at Arthur's place, he grabbed his phone in desperation and made a call.

Within a very few moments, he had found himself a date.

Lars picked him up with a single red tulip. They took a cab to the restaurant, had a quick meal, and then a movie. Typical first date stuff, but they both had a good time, and Lars was glad that Matthew had called him after so long. "Man, if only every date could be like this. My first dates usually end in disaster."

Matthew smiled back, stretching his fingers in Lars' hand before tightening them again. They strolled down the sidewalk as the moonlight cooled the concrete path. "I've really enjoyed it, too. I've been cooped up and restless for over a week. This... is nice."

"Yeah, I agree." They got to Matthew's house, and Lars walked him up to the door. He smiled down at him, flexing his fingers so he could tighten his hold on the soft hand. "I had a really good time tonight." He was hoping he would be asked in for 'coffee', but wasn't counting on it. It might take a few more dates for that.

Smiling a little shyly, Matthew shuffled his feet a couple inches closer and stood on his tiptoes, briefly pressing his lips against Lars'. He pulled back, but not far at all, perhaps a single centimeter. "Would you like to come in?" he asked softly, squeezing Lars' hands. He liked the tall gentleman, and it wasn't as though he was doing anything else that night. He knew, though, that he definitely wasn't in the mood to be alone anymore.

* * *

Gilbert finally felt like he had his shit together. It had taken longer than expected, but now he felt much, much better. He reasoned that yes, he may like Matthew as more than a friend, but that didn't have to mean he was gay. It just meant that out of all the girls he liked, there was one man in there. If he looked at it in percentages, then he was like 2 percent gay and 98 percent straight. That wasn't so bad, was it? And maybe Matthew liked him as well. Besides, he always said he didn't want a girlfriend because they were annoying. Matthew wasn't annoying, and he wouldn't want stupid things like shoes and skirts. So this was probably for the better.

He turned the corner to Matthew's house, and stopped dead in his tracks. That... they... _That guy was attacking Matthew_!

* * *

Matthew smiled a bit shyly at Lars' enthusiastic acceptance and leaned in, pressing one more kiss to his lips before everything went to hell. He heard footsteps quickly stomping up to the two of them and opened his eyes, pulling back with wide-eyed surprise. "Gilbert-"

The first punch was thrown before the word was out of Matthew's mouth. Gilbert ignored the sting in his knuckles and glared at the man. "You fucker! Keep your hands off him!" He lifted his hand for another punch as Lars straightened up.

"What the hell dude! What's your problem!" Lars growled, cupping his jaw. This guy looked kind of hard core, with his red eyes and the healing cuts all over his face. He looked to Matthew, and scrunched up his nose. "Whatever, you guys work out your problems, I don't wanna get in the middle of this."

"Lars, wait-!" Matthew said, crying out when Gilbert grabbed his keys in one hand and his wrist in the other. He couldn't resist when he was dragged through the door inside. "Stop it! I need to go apologize...!"

Gilbert quickly spun him around, pressed him against the door, and slammed their mouths together. He wanted to erase all trace of that guy. Matthew deserved better than an obvious stoner. Making a noise of surprise and slight pain, Matthew squirmed against him. He tried to push him back, gasping for breath when he could jerk his head to the side. "What are you trying to pull?" he accused, staring into Gilbert's wild eyes.

"Date me! Don't go out with that guy! It's obvious he only wants one thing!" Gilbert yelled, stepping back a bit. He was still breathing heavily from everything that had occurred, and he really hadn't thought this was what was going to happen when he made up his mind to come over.

Matthew pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, his chest heaving. "Don't you dare make fun of me like that," he cried after a moment. His voice was thick and heavy with hurt. Why would Gilbert be so intentionally hateful? What had he done that was despicable enough to deserve such sadistic teasing? The heat of shame and guilt and hurt rose in his cheeks and built up behind his eyes. A little sob burst from his throat like a bubble and he hid his face in his hands.

He was so tired of being alone.

The German wasn't exactly sure what just happened. Wasn't Matthew supposed to say that he wanted him all along and take him to his bedroom, kissing him all the way? That was what Elizaveta had told him would happen! "No Matt, I'm serious! Remember, the whole thing before I was attacked by the cat? Oh wait, she isn't planning a sneak attack on me or something is she?" He looked around suspiciously for the fur ball, but luckily didn't see any.

"Get out." Matthew shoved past him, wiping away the moisture leaking from the corners of his eyes. He retreated to his room, huffing indignantly when Gilbert followed. "I said get out! I'm not playing your little game, Gilbert!"

"What game? Look Matt, if you don't want to date me then fine, but don't push me away like this! Come on, talk to me!" This just wasn't fair! Not to mention he was pretty sure that killer cat was close by, just waiting for his guard to be down.

Matthew pushed him away, backing up to the window. "Whatever this is you're playing at, I don't want any part of it. I can't even believe you'd be serious. There's no freaking way you're serious."

Grabbing the door handle, Gilbert closed it so that Matthew wouldn't try to run away from him or something. "You think I'm lying? Why would I lie about something like this?" His eyes were fervid, trying to figure out how it had come to this. "Look... what can I do to make you believe me?"

Matthew didn't even take a moment to consider it. He just stared at Gilbert warily, mistrust seeping from every pore. "... are you just curious?" His voice was softer, steadier, and infinitesimally cooler. "You just want to know what it's like to be with another man? You'll try it out, and if it's to your liking, you'll just use me as another notch in your bedpost, like every woman you've ever been with. Well, fuck you, Gilbert. It's happened to me before, and I'll be damned if I let it happen again."

It was silent for a moment, and Gilbert looked away. "If I wanted to just try it out, why would I ask my friend? Look Matt, I realized that I like you. I mean, it should have been pretty obvious to both of us when I still wanted to be friends after you told me you were gay. I admit it would be easier if you were just born a girl or something, but I still want you. Even though you have a penis."

Matthew's lips parted in surprise. His cheeks were beginning to warm with something a little softer than anger. "I don't think you'd ever be able to see me as a real person and not a walking pair of breasts if I didn't have a penis," he said weakly, pulling Kumajiro off the edge of his bed on reflex, holding it tight. "I didn't think I was your friend anymore, after what happened the other week."

"Yeah, sorry about that. Like I said, I was confused and I didn't think it would be a good idea to be around if you were gonna show up naked again. But I figured it out and then I came back to see you making out with that douche." Gilbert went to sit on the bed, away from Matthew just in case. "But seriously, what will convince you that I'm serious?"

The Canadian eyed him, trying to see through any spiteful ruse that might have been particularly well hidden. He knew he was too trusting- Arthur told him so practically every day, and he'd proved it with every terrible ending to each relationship he'd ever been a part of.

But... there was one thing...

"You'd have to pass my brother's test," he said quietly, cradling the stuffed bear to his chest. "I've never let him use it before, but if you're really, truly serious, then that's how you can prove it to me."

"Your brother's test? What is it, like a football test or something? Because I know a bit about football, but I could study and stuff." Or whatever the test was about. But what the hell did that have to do with proving to Matthew that he was serious about dating him?

"It's nothing you can study for," Matthew said. He looked out the window. "Alfred won't be back until tomorrow, so you can't ask him now. You might as well go home."

Well, that was very disappointing, considering he had been hoping to get at least something tonight, maybe sleep over. "If I can't study for it, how do I know if I'll pass or not? Your brother and I have nothing in common! It'll probably be on something that I know nothing about!"

"It's not a test of the mind. It's based on willpower." He heard a little mewl and a pawing at his bedroom door and padded over, letting the pale fuzzy kitten inside. "I used to think that it was only because Alfred didn't want me to be with anyone, but now I realize that it was probably to weed out the bad ones."

Gilbert was glaring at the kitten, making sure she stayed firmly in Matthew's arms. "Willpower? Alright, I can do that. That's just like being awesome enough to do something. Since I don't have to study, I want to sleep over." As long as that cat was not anywhere near wherever he was sleeping.

Matthew opened his mouth, but the protest died on his lips almost immediately. "Do what you want," he said, tossing Kumajiro onto the bed and carrying Maple out to the kitchen. He sat her down on the floor beside him and proceeded to look around for something to do. He'd already cleaned the apartment from top to bottom earlier, in case Lars had agreed to stay the night. Remembering suddenly that he had to apologize, he took the phone from his pocket and dialed the other's number. "Lars?" he said when the other line clicked. "H-hi. Look, I'm sorry about before. I had no idea that that was going to happen. Are you okay?"

Having heard the muffled conversation through the thin walls, Gilbert ran out of the room and grabbed the phone from Matthew's grasp despite his protests. "Hey. Lars, right? Well, I'm about to become Matt's boyfriend, so why don't you start looking for another defenseless boy to catch." He hung up the phone before the guy could respond and glared at Matthew. "What, making sure your safety net is still good in case I fail the test?"

Matthew made to snatch the phone away, finding it rather difficult with Gilbert's obstinacy. "I was calling to apologize for the date you interrupted!" he said snappishly, grabbing for it again. "_Some_of us value chivalry."

"Chivalry? That wasn't chivalry! He had his tongue half way down your throat, and was trying to get into your pants! That's not what should happen on a first fucking date. I should know, because I've done exactly that countless times, and was the farthest thing from chivalrous." He sat down on the floor beside Matthew, wary of the cat that suddenly had her claws out.

"It was not… We were barely... It's _my_business if I decide to sleep with someone or not!" he said, felling a little peculiar to be yelling down at someone. "I can't just live off of friendship and... and... what are you doing on the floor?"

"Why the fuck do I need a reason?" Gilbert huffed and leaned against the wall. "I don't know, maybe I'm saving my energy for the test. And if I'm sitting on the floor, it's harder for you to kick me out if you're mad. Come sit with me."

Matthew gave a dry glance toward the chairs around the table just across the room and sighed, dropping down to the floor beside him. "I don't get you at all," he said quietly, stroking the kitten's head when she stepped between his outstretched legs.

Gilbert shuffled away from the cat as she got closer. "Why did you get a cat? Do you think I look good in bandages or something? You should have seen me after Liz got to me, I looked like a fucking mummy!" Stupid cat. Dogs were better. You could train dogs. Cats just did whatever they want, and they were so obviously evil, the look in their eyes said it all.

The blond smiled and tickled her fuzzy chin. "She called to me, actually. I was running some errands and found her in a dumpster, crying her poor head off. She followed me home, and she hasn't left since." He stroked the arch of her back, melting at the sound of her purrs. "When a cat loves you, it's just so rewarding. Dogs are programmed to mindlessly follow their masters, but cats are so selective. It makes you feel special to be loved and depended on by such an independent creature."

"She was left alone because her former owners realized she was evil. You should throw her back." Gilbert tried shooing her away, but she was coming closer. "Go away… Matthew, make her go away!" He was about to push her away, when something unexpected happened.

She started purring.

Matthew's eyes widened and he shared a surprised glance with Gilbert. A slow smile stretched across Matthew's face and he tried not to laugh. "She's either decided to like you, or she's doing this just to spite you."

It appeared to be the first when she started nuzzling his hand. Gilbert was a little afraid but turned it to slowly pet her head. The purring got louder, and then she rolled onto her back.

The Canadian watched in rapt fascination as Gilbert and his cat seemed to bond. "Wow, she's only ever this docile with Alfred and I. I'm a little jealous." He reached over, stroking her tiny tail.

"Don't be. She'll probably still rip my balls off when I'm not looking." He went on his knees so he could pet her with both hands, and she really seemed to like that. Gilbert laughed and pulled away, but she meowed so he had to continue petting her.

Matthew laughed. "Or make you her eternal slave. How cunning, Maple," he said in an approving tone, scratching behind her ears. Her tiny paws reached out, batting playfully at Gilbert's hands, and Mathew grinned. "For all the bravado you have against cats, you're pretty good with her."

"I don't like cats. One ate my pet bird when I was a kid. I'm only doing this because I figure if I'm nice to her, she may let me into your room tonight…?" Of course, the question wasn't for the cat, made obvious when he looked up at Matthew.

Matthew poked her little pink nose. "Guests are always welcome to take my bed," he said. He just planned to take the couch, like always.

Gilbert pouted a little, and then took a big chance by picking the cat up and putting her in his lap. More on his legs though, he didn't trust her that much to be so near his junk. "So what, I'm just a guest? Like, 'Oh Uncle Joe, no, you can have my bed.' That's not very nice."

"Why yes, Uncle Gil, I insist you take the bed," he said, reaching for Maple only to remember where she was. He folded his hands in his lap. "You can snuggle with Maple if you'd like."

"I don't want to risk my life that much." He put her on the floor and stood up, slightly worried when she gave a sad cry. "Well, then there's really no point in waiting around here. I'll take the couch, it's fine. Could you call Alfred and tell him about the test?"

Matthew frowned up at him. "All bets are off if you don't take the bed. There's no point in going all polite on me now. It'll just be weird."

"Fine, I'll take the bed! And I _am_polite. I usually take the couch when I sleep over here." And now he would be plagued by Matthew's sweet smelling shampoo all night long. Crap, he probably wasn't going to sleep at all… and then he would fail the test.

"Since when do you take the couch?" Matthew snorted, standing up and snatching his phone from Gilbert's back pocket at the speed of light. "You crash in my room at least once a week."

Gilbert rolled his eyes and picked up the cat, afraid she would claw him if he didn't pet her more. "But I sleep over at least twice a week, so at least half the time I sleep on the couch." Man, it really was sad how often he had grown to stay over here, even putting up with Alfred.

"This argument could have been avoided long ago if you weren't such a homophobe," Matthew said simply, going to his room to fetch a pillow and a blanket.

He walked after him, kitten purring happily in his arms. "What does this have to do with me being a homophobe? And anyway, I'm not anymore! I'm friends with you, and oh, let me think, I want to date you! I can't exactly be homophobic if I want a boyfriend."

With the bundle gathered up in his arms, Matthew brushed past him. "If it hadn't freaked you out so much, we could've just shared the bed. It's plenty big enough for two people to be comfortable." He conveniently didn't give a reply to the last bit.

"I would be fine with sharing the bed _now_, but you insisted on the couch. I don't see a problem here." Gilbert felt teeth on his finger and jumped a bit, but it looked like she was just nibbling. At least it didn't hurt.

"Well, now you've got an ulterior motive, so that just won't do," Matthew said, building his nest on the sofa. He decided not to mention that he'd been fully prepared to take Lars into his bed if it had come to that. "Besides, if you try the test tomorrow, you might decide that it's not worth it. And then what's the point, right?" He smoothed the pillow down, very adamantly refusing to meet Gilbert's eyes.

Gilbert would have said something to that, but figured that he might as well keep silent and leave it for tomorrow. After all, if Alfred was in charge of the test, it could be something like jumping out of a flying plane with no parachute, just so he could get rid of him. "Fine. Well you take the cat, and I'm closing the door so she can't eat my face off in the middle of the night."

Matthew happily took Maple into his arms and let her scramble onto his shoulder. He stood there, facing Gilbert, wondering a bit awkwardly if something different was supposed to happen now that they were... something else. "Erm... goodnight, Gilbert."

"Night." He was about to turn around and go into the room, but then had a good idea. "Hey, since your brother may try to kill me tomorrow, I should get a goodnight kiss."

Maple gave a noise of protest when Matthew accidentally dropped her on the pillow. He turned his face toward Gilbert, color blooming in his cheeks. "W-what?"

"Well, you gave Lars a goodnight kiss so I think I deserve at least that," Gilbert reasoned, intent on getting one. He had no idea what the test was going to be, and he would try to pass it, but it might be something impossible like turning water into sand.

Clearing his throat, the Canadian glanced down at Maple who looked right back. "... fine," he conceded after a moment.

Practically jumping in joy at his win, Gilbert was beside him in two strides. "Pucker up baby, I'm gonna rock your world!" This kiss was better than the first, mainly because Matthew actually knew this one was coming and didn't try to pull away.

He did stumble back a little from Gilbert's... exuberance, grabbing onto his shirt to keep his balance. Matthew made a noise, pulling back for a gulp of air. "First thing's first," he gasped, planting a hand weakly on Gilbert's shoulder. "You're going to have to learn how to kiss without trying to kill."

"Then I'll need practice. Care to try again?" Gilbert said, a smug grin on his face. He wasn't really that surprised when Matthew pushed him into the room and shut the door. "Fine, whatever, goodnight!"

Matthew sighed wearily, scooping Maple up as he snuggled beneath the covers, reaching out to turn off the lamp. "You're so lucky to be a cat," he said, falling asleep soon after she curled up on his chest and began to purr.


	7. Chapter 7

The end! It's been fun, guys!

* * *

Gilbert walked to the beach at noon, like he was told to. Apparently that is where the test was going to be. He had bags under his eyes from spending half the night sniffing Matthew's pillow (which was totally not weird… he was Matthew's boyfriend-to-be, after all), and now he was cursing this stupid test. Why had he agreed to something like this?

There was a huge group of men surrounding a tree, and he supposed that is where it was going to be. He could hear Alfred on a megaphone, telling them about the homophobe that had stolen his cute brother's pure heart.

The sea of people was parted down the middle, a wide gap separating the sides. Alfred stood at the end of the crowd with the sizable device in his hands, pointing at Gilbert and waving his free hand about.

Beyond him stood a tall and rather frightening man, and beyond _him_a... large patch of black on the sand, and beyond that stood Arthur. He was too far away to make out any real detail, but he had something in his arms. And right behind Arthur was a fairly tall tree with a distinct Matthew-shaped person perched where the leaves were thin.

This was starting to look like a bad idea.

Alfred pointed to him from his stand; the American seemed more invested about the ordeal than anyone else there. "And here is the challenger! Questing for my brother's heart! Here is what he must do. Defeat the giant…" Alfred pointed to the large man with no shirt and a scarf... the same man that had gone naked at the birthday party. "… Then he must traverse the river of lava!" He pointed now to the blackened strip, which looked as if it was glowing. "Fight the beast, and save the damsel in distress from her high tower!"  
**  
**Gilbert groaned. Very, very bad idea. But, he had to do it anyway. It wouldn't be awesome to back down.

Alfred jeered at him with the megaphone as he passed and the tall, smiling gentleman regarded him coolly when he approached. "Good afternoon!" he said, his tone as sweet as candy. "You are ready to be crushed for the sake of honor, da?"

"Uh yeah, about that…" Gilbert leaned in, thinking this guy had to see reason. "Look, this is pretty much all for show, so you know, pretend to throw a few punches, I fall on the ground, and everyone's happy, right?"

"Oh, I do not think so," the man said with a giggle. "What will you prove with theatrics, hmm? I am Ivan, by the way, and if you do not win cute Matthew's love, you may become one with me." He took a step closer, popping the joints in his knuckles. "Shall we begin?"

Eyes wide, Gilbert was looking up at this man when it clicked. If he fought this guy, he was going to be crushed. Quickly he tried going around him, like maybe he could just outrun him. The German held back a cry when he was grabbed by the back of his shirt and literally lifted off the ground, then thrown back onto the ground. "Fuck man! Ow! Keep off the steroids!"

Ivan giggled, throwing Gilbert over his shoulder without any trouble at all. "How funny you are, comrade!" The crowd roared and Ivan waved at them cheerfully.

"Beat the ever-loving crap out of him, Russki!" Alfred called. Ivan let Gilbert fall to the ground again.

"Oops."

Coughing, Gilbert tried to get up and run away, but as soon as he did his legs were swept out from under him. Fuck. This was just stupid! "This is why God shouldn't make monsters so fucking big!" he spat, glaring at the scarf. Stupid scarf. Actually no, great, almighty scarf! He grabbed onto the fabric and pulled, hoping to choke the guy.

Ivan's eyes grew wide and he reached for Gilbert, trying to yank the scarf out of his hands without damaging it. "Don't pull!"

Seeing an opportunity, Gilbert gave the scarf one last yank and then let go. Ivan's hands went quickly to inspect the fabric, and the albino made his getaway. He ran to the black strip and at the first step, realized what it was. Fucking burning hot coals! But there were people who did fire walking, he could do this! But why did it hurt so fucking much? He practically ran across it, (which he later discovered was the worst thing to do) and fell onto his back at the end of it, clutching his feet. "Ow! Burning owowowow!" He tried to pick a few coals off that had gotten stuck. That hurt more than the beating! And the beating _really_fucking hurt!

Arthur quirked a massive eyebrow at him. A cardboard box sat near his feet, and tucked under his arm was a bundle of cloth. "Might I just say that the irony of this entire situation is staggering?"

"Shut the fuck up, homo, and help me stand. I still have to fight a monster and climb the tree or something." He looked over to see Matthew in the tree, but he could only really see his legs since the rest of him was covered by the leaves. Fuck, did that mean that he hadn't seen all he had to go through?

"You're not exactly inspiring any feelings of goodwill here," Arthur huffed, tossing him the shirt. "Stand up yourself and put that on. Don't argue with me, just do it!"

He managed to get up on his knees, still not wanting to walk on his feet, and put on the stinky shirt. "What, did you guys roll this in dirt or something? How does this prove anything?"

The only answer he received was a smirk. Arthur bent over, opening the box beside him and from it, he lifted a rather hassled-looking Maple.

"Actually, it's catnip. Sorry, love, but you're about to take flight." He chucked the cat at Gilbert's face.

"AH!" Gilbert yelled, trying to get the cat off his face... again. But then it was going for his shirt, and its claws ripped through it easily, getting to his skin. "Fucking cat! We had a truce!" Finally he got her in his hand, but she was clawing at his wrist now. Great, he was going to die an emo! Trying to shake her off wasn't working, because she had dug her sharp baby kitten claws deep in his skin. Maybe if he got to the tree he would be somehow saved.

Arthur's cackling followed him all the way. Halfway to the top of the tree, Matthew squinted through the branches, barely able to see. His glasses had fallen all the way to the ground below, but he heard what sounded like an adorable engine revving and a certain German cursing it to hell. "Gilbert?" he called.

"Get this fucking thing off me! Fuck owwwww!" He was limping badly, breathing heavily, his wrist bleeding, and would definitely be covered in bruises, but he had finally made it to the tree. "Get your cat off!"

Matthew coiled his arm around the thick branch. "You're going to have to climb; I can barely see you!"

Gilbert whimpered, wishing he could throw this cat off somehow. There was no way he could climb the tree. No fucking way. The bark would tear his burnt feet up even more, and hurt his bleeding hands… fuck he hated Alfred. Hated him with every fiber of his being. He saw a branch that would make an okay foothold… you know, on a normal day, when he wasn't a walking sore. He stepped on it and pulled himself up, Maple hissing on his hand.

Matthew frowned. "Are you okay?" he asked, reaching down with his free hand, even though Gilbert was quite a ways away. "They put me in this tree while they were setting up, so I don't know what the trials were."

"Take the fucking cat!" Gilbert thrust his hand up through the leaves, and he swore her claws dug in even deeper. But within seconds, the pressure was gone, and he was so relieved that... he fell out of the tree. "Ow fuck! Fucking tree fucking cat fucking trial fuck fuck!" He tried getting back up, Alfred's voice in the background telling him that if he didn't rescue the princess from the tower, he failed.

Matthew tried to reach for the pale kitten-shaped blotch clinging to the bark of the tree a little too far out of reach. He made a frustrated noise and swung his leg over the side, toeing around for a branch underneath. "Answer me, Gilbert! Shh, it's okay, Maple, I'm coming," he said softly dangling down with a little difficulty reaching the next branch down. "Are you okay?"

Gilbert rolled over and got onto his knees, trying to catch his breath. The last fall had knocked the wind out of him. "Yeah, wait I have to come -fuck- up there. Ow fuck." He grabbed for a branch that would hold his weight and hoisted himself up, trying to keep off his feet as much as possible.

Matthew finally found the next branch down and latched onto the trunk of the tree, his feet firmly in place. "M-maybe you shouldn't climb. Maybe I should jump."

"But he said that I have to climb up and fucking save you." After all he had just gone through, there was no way he was going to fail now just because he couldn't climb up this fucking tree. Gilbert looked around for another branch.

Matthew nibbled on his lower lip, hugging the tree. Poor Maple mewled just a short distance away.

"But you _would _be saving me. Could I trust you to catch me if I fell, Gil?"

"In this condition I wouldn't trust me to catch the cat!" Not that he wanted to catch the cat, his wounds were extensive enough already. Once he was up a few feet, he could see Matthew and Maple, both clinging to the tree.

Matthew could see him nearing through his blurry vision and tried to shimmy down the trunk to the next branch - one he couldn't see or feel. He winced at the feeling of bark scraping up his bare thighs as his shorts rode up. "Get Maple first!"

Looking at the frightened cat, Gilbert paled even more, if it were possible. "I'm not touching that thing! Last night was just a fluke, she really and truly hates me!" He had the wounds to prove it. "Besides, aren't cats supposed to land on their feet? She can jump down! Or the firemen can get her down!"

"She's just a baby!" Matt argued, sliding down inch by inch. Eventually, his feet found a thin branch on the way down and he crouched there, reaching out to coax the frightened kitten from the tree. "Shhh, it's okay, I've got you," he murmured, gently pulling her off. A grunt from below turned his attention back to Gilbert. He craned his neck down and jolted in fright when his branch made a sickening snapping sound.

Gilbert grunted loudly when Matthew's full weight fell on him. Later he would say that the only reason they stayed on the tree was his sheer awesomeness, but really it was just pure luck that he had just gotten a really good foothold, and had already been reaching up to grab Matthew's leg. As it was, they ended up with the Canadian squished against the tree, the cat meowing on his arm, and Gilbert swaying precariously. "Ow fuck! I'm getting down, this is close enough to saving you from the tree!"

Matthew gasped, fighting to get breath back into his lungs as the air had been knocked out of him. His elbows and the backs of his arms were scraped with dozens of fine red lines streaking upward, and his head and lower back throbbed from the collision. Maple's claws were snagged in his shirt so tightly that he didn't think she'd ever let go, but at least she seemed alright. He closed his eyes. "Ow. Okay."

They soon made it down to the sand, and Gilbert practically fell onto his back, relieved it was over. Although knowing Alfred, he would probably want to see him even more hurt, and send Ivan after him again. Speaking of Alfred, he was making his way over with most of the group of onlookers.

"Alright Gilbert, I guess you passed. Oh Matt, are you alright?" Alfred ran to his younger brother, who barely had a scratch compared to the German.

Matthew crawled over to Gilbert, assuring Alfred that he was fine as he looked over the German. "You look pretty bad, Gil. Having second thoughts yet?" he asked softly, brushing the hair from Gilbert's sweat-and-blood bruised forehead.

"After all that you think I'm backing out now? Fuck that." Gilbert grabbed Matthew by the shirt and brought him down for a kiss, to the cheers of the crowd. Then Maple swiped at his already bleeding hand. "Shit, your cat is such a cockblock."

Matthew laughed, resting his forehead briefly against Gilbert's, his cheeks burning pink. "Come on," he said after a minute, taking Gilbert's hand. "Let me take you home. You're gonna need a few band-aids. And probably some TLC."

He groaned as he sat up. "Fuck my feet hurt. Won't be able to wear shoes for like a week. How are your arms?" They looked a little scratched from the fall. Or from the demon cat, either one.

"Hm?" He glanced at his elbows and shrugged. "I've had worse. And so've you." He looped an arm around Gilbert's waist letting Maple jump to the ground as he took Gilbert's arm over his shoulder. "You can lean on me. Here we go, slow and steady..."

They stood up, and Gilbert felt like a wimp. "I'm not crippled you know, I did just climb a fucking tree. Sort of." The cat was following along behind them, but he didn't really care as long as she wasn't attacking him. As an afterthought, he wiggled out of the shirt that he had been forced to put on that was covered in catnip.

"Fine. Walk on your own," Matthew said, walking ahead. His face was hot from the rejection and he scooped a recovered Maple up in his arms.

"Ow, fuck, I didn't say you couldn't help me!" Gilbert hobbled along, trying to catch up. "Shit, you're always so _sensitive_. Oh sure, cuddle the cat. Well let me tell you, that cat can't give you the awesome pleasure I can."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Don't put on a bravado if you want help, Gilbert." He tucked Maple against his shoulder, looping his arm around Gilbert once more. "And don't get ahead of yourself. I imagine you're a fairly selfish lover."

They got to Matthew's car and climbed inside. "Lies, I'm the best fucking lover _ever_. Even better than Francis, the self-proclaimed master of love." Wow, that was probably the first time he had casually mentioned his old friends in years.

The Canadian only laughed, chastising Gilbert for not buckling up, and once the action was complete, he pulled out of the parking lot. People waved and cheered from all sides as they left, serving only to make Matthew blush. He couldn't really remember the last time he'd ever received so much attention, if ever.

"If you know a master of love, you should introduce us."

Gilbert's mood took a turn for the worse. He slumped back into the seat and glared out the window. "You're not his type." Which was a total lie. Francis didn't _have_a type; he went for anything. A fact cemented by learning that he was bi, not gay.

Noticing the change in tone, Matthew glanced at him out of his periphery. "Not his type of acquaintance?" he asked, trying to make it better. Absently, he reached over and touched Gilbert's hand.

Unfortunately, that was the hand that was all cut up from the demon cat. Gilbert winced and pulled back. "Yeah, definitely not his type. But that's okay, because even without the big boobs you're exactly my type."

Even though his words were... somewhat sweet, the action still stung. Matthew gripped the steering wheel with burning cheeks, regretting making the move. "If you say so."

He pulled into Gilbert's drive and went around to open his door for him, pulling himself along behind the heavy door. When Gilbert stepped out the cat followed him. "Hey, so wait, this means we're dating now doesn't it? 'Cause if I did all that and you still don't believe me, I'm gonna fucking do something very drastic. Just so happens I'm in too much pain right now to think of what I'll do."

Matthew shut the door behind him and followed the limping German up the walkway. He didn't answer until after Gilbert was inside and situated on the sofa. Retrieving a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a few cotton balls and a box of bandages from under Gilbert's bathroom sink, he knelt down beside the couch and unscrewed the lid of the antiseptic.

"There's no need for you to do whatever drastic thing you might think of doing, and... and I'm not undermining what you did today, either, but... Ugh, you've got sand in your hair, and blood everywhere else. I think you need to shower before I patch you up. Really."

But Gilbert wasn't having any of it. He grabbed Matthew by the arm, forcing him to look him in the eye. "But? But what?"

Matthew bit his lip, unable to look away. "But... I'm scared." He swallowed. "I'm terrified. Whatever this is for you, new and interesting though it may seem now, you... you're not really the fidelity _type_, and if we do this and you decide that you're disgusted or bored with me, or when your curiosity is satisfied, there's nothing holding you _to _me, and if it broke my heart with someone who I never really loved in the first place, if it happened with you, I... I don't think I could handle it."

There was a pause and Gilbert let his arm go, looking away. "So, let me get this straight, because I might not be thinking very clearly right now. I just got thrown around by a giant Russian guy who has a love affair with his scarf, got my feet burnt from running across a strip of burning hot coals, got scratched to shit by your cat, and climbed a tree so that I could date you, and you still think that this is some fucking... phase I'm going through? You must have met some really dedicated players in your life then, 'cause I don't know anyone who would go through that to just satisfy their curiosity!"

"You say that like your pride couldn't take down an elephant!" came his retort, soaking a cotton ball in alcohol and dabbing a little harshly at the claw marks on Gilbert's arms. "Just because you won't back down from a challenge in front of a bunch of people doesn't mean you love me."

Gilbert waved his arm so that Matthew would stop, and stood up with a wince. "Those people are fuckers. I don't care what they think about me. And obviously you don't give a fuck either, so why bother fixing me up?" He stormed into the bathroom, or as much as he could when his feet still felt like they were on fire.

Matthew didn't move from the spot, listening silently as the muffled curses faded into the distant spray of shower water. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and stood, finding Gilbert's room. Quietly, he opened drawers and found the German a clean outfit, opening the door to the steamy bathroom without a sound and placed them beside the sink. He gathered up all of the first aid treatment and retreated to the kitchen, laying it all out on the table before going through Gilbert's cabinets.

The water and soap washed all of the sand and blood away, but Gilbert didn't really do much to help it. He was just standing there, the feeling of smooth linoleum under his feet making them hurt less. He was still angry, so angry that he hadn't heard the door open. But when he got out he saw a pile of clothes waiting for him. He figured that Matthew was probably gone already anyway, and even if he wasn't it wasn't like he cared about him… and anyway it was _his_fucking house! Once Gilbert was dried off, he left the steamy bathroom, completely ignoring the clothes.

Matthew slid the last pancake onto the stack and turned the heat off of two occupied burners, slicing the thick sausages in the other down the center. With the sauerkraut still simmering, he untied Gilbert's 'Kiss the Fucking Chef' apron and looped it over his head. He washed his hands after, and upon reaching for the towel, he realized that he could no longer hear the shower running.

Holding his breath, Matt grabbed the syrup bottle and smothered the pancakes in a sticky fountain before placing them on the table.

Seeing Matthew in the kitchen, Gilbert was glad that he had at least kept his towel on. He limped in and didn't look at him as he sat down. "Wow, this looks nice. Sure making pancakes for someone who you're not sure will stay with you isn't too much?" His voice dripped venom and he glared at the table.

Matthew ignored his tone, forking the bratwurst onto a plate and carrying both that and the covered pot of pungent cabbage over, resting it on a potholder. "I've never made sauerkraut before, so I Googled it on my phone. I hope I followed the directions right."

"What the fuck, I don't want your pity food. If you don't trust me then you might as well leave." Gilbert pushed the plate away, even if it really did smell and look good. He just wasn't very hungry, and definitely didn't want to eat if it was Matthew's way of saying _we can still be friends_.

Taking a deep, slow breath, Matthew seated himself at the other side of the table. "You don't call a meal in the afternoon 'pity.' You call it dinner. If you don't want it, you don't have to eat it. And if you want me to leave, I will. But hear me out first." His tone was soft in the way that one soothes a potentially dangerous animal.

Gilbert sat back in his chair and looked at him, his arms crossed against his bare chest. He waited for Matthew to speak, since he didn't feel like saying anything till he explained.

At the suddenly rapt attention, Matthew looked down at his entwined fingers as they clenched and unclenched around themselves. "I'm sorry if what I said was hurtful," he said quietly. "I know you went through a lot today, and I appreciate it... more than I can say. I don't believe you care much about what other people think of you, and I didn't mean to imply that at all. I didn't mean to imply, either, that you don't care about me." Nervously, he brushed the hair out of his face. "But I know myself well enough to realize that I'm too willing to throw myself into things one hundred percent, and before I've even realized it, it always comes crashing down around my ears because... because I'm always the only one to give it my all. You know?" He looked up at the table, rearranging the silverware on his napkin. Matthew knew he was rambling, but somehow, he couldn't make his mouth stop. "S-so it's just... really hard for me... to feel confident in this when I know you don't like to be tied down, and you're not really into guys, and there's nothing particularly special about me, and I already really, _really _l-love you, and I have for a while now, so I'd sort of resigned myself to just being your friend for as long as you'd have me, but now, it's... different, and I don't know what to do." He took a breath. "And I know, I know you said that it was okay, that you wanted me even though I'm a guy, maybe even because of it, but you'll probably be really weirded out if we actually _did_anything, and even though I'm not a girl, I still need affection and reassurance, not all day every day, but probably more than you'd want to be attentive to, so... so... that's why."

He sniffed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms under his glasses. "T-the food's getting cold."

"The food can wait." Not that he wouldn't eat it later, but it wasn't the most important thing right now. Gilbert sighed and glanced down to his hands, and regretted it since he was reminded of how much he really needed band-aides. "Look, I'm not saying that I would be a good boyfriend. Hell, I would probably be a terrible boyfriend. I never remember things like Valentine's day or anniversaries or anything. But I think it's worth something when a straight guy like me is willing to change teams just for one guy, don't you? I mean like fuck, if we date, I will never be able to call myself straight again. But I'm risking it for this, and I wouldn't let it go as easy as you seem to think I would."

Matthew reached over to grab the first aid supplies he'd moved onto a chair earlier and scooted toward Gilbert with his chair. "I know," he said, soaking a cotton ball in alcohol. "And I want to be... with you." He looked up at Gilbert, reaching out to touch his arm before pulling it toward himself, dabbing the cuts. Matthew gave a little laugh. "More than anything in the world. I just don't want to lose you. You're the best friend I've ever had, you know?"

"I'm the best friend you've ever had? You must have had some shitty friends." He gave a small laugh, then winced as one of the cuts stung. "But if you want to be with me, then why are you hesitating? I think we both deserve this."

"Well, I mean, dating a friend is kind of a never-go-back thing," he said with a sigh, blowing on the doctored cuts before taking out a mega-bandage and sticking it over. "All or nothing. I just don't want to end up with nothing."

Gilbert sighed and put his head down on the table. "And we couldn't have had this talk before I went through your brother's test? Which should really be renamed to your brother's torture fest." With his hand being cared for, he started really hoping there was some burn cream in that first aid kit.

Matthew stuck a miniature bandage over a little nick on Gilbert's neck and gave it a little kiss. "You didn't really seem like talking. More like you just wanted to hit my potential boyfriend and try to get into my pants."

"Well he was a bad potential boyfriend. You were worried about how long our relationship would last, if you dated him it wouldn't have gone on much farther than the bedroom." He closed his eyes as another small kiss was pressed to his jaw. "So, how am I doing in the potential boyfriend category? Ready to drop the potential?"

Chuckling against his jaw, Matthew leaned back, glancing down at the cool water dripping down Gilbert's pale, firm torso. His tongue darted out to wet his lips without his knowing and he reached for the bottle and another cotton ball. "If you let me finish patching you up," he said quietly, soft violet eyes peering through his lashes, "we can take this conversation to your room."

Gilbert lifted an eyebrow and decided he was going to be the best damn patient in the world. He held out his other hand, which still had a few scrapes but not as bad as the other one. "I think I like that idea."

Matthew doctored every scratch with delicate diligence, pressing little kisses to them as he went down Gilbert's arm. He took one look at Gilbert's heavily clawed chest and blushed, but leaned down to lay kisses over the multitude of bandages he lined the scratches with. He smelled so good, like some kind of minty, musky body wash, sending pleasant tingles down Matthew's spine.

He was enjoying all the attention to his chest, but getting a little bored with the small kisses. "You forgot a scratch on my face. Right here." Gilbert pointed to his lips with a smirk.

"What, this big, flapping gash?" Matthew said sweetly, sliding his thumb over Gilbert's lips. He smiled, kissing the spot just beside his thumb. "I think this's been here since birth."

Gilbert pushed forward, taking Matthew's mouth again. His bandaged hand went up to hold the back of his head, deepening the kiss. "You better hurry so we can make it to the 'recovery room'," he said with a smirk. Now pretty much all that was left was his feet, since there wasn't much to be done about the bruises.

Matthew could only stare back with dazed eyes for a moment, his cheeks a healthy pink. "N-not that I don't want to..." he said without all of his breath, "but aren't your ribs bruised?"

"So? There's really nothing we can do about that. They aren't broken, so I can still perform, if that's what you're worried about." He was lucky his tail bone wasn't bruised, or else he wouldn't even be able to sit down.

"Perfo- no! That's not what I meant!" he insisted, made rather flustered by the implication. "I just don't want you to hurt yourself in the act, is all." He crouched down, taking Gilbert's feet into his lap as he doctored them, perhaps more hastily than the other injuries.

He twitched, just remembering how ticklish his feet were. Somehow, the wounds made him even more sensitive, so it was more ticklish than normal. "Can you -ah- try not to -oh God stop!" He giggled, immediately embarrassed with the reaction.

Matthew's face took on an enlightened expression, quickly followed by something terribly feisty. He wiggled his fingers down the arch, bursting out into a fit of laughter, catching the fresh, contagious bout from Gilbert. "Ahaha! I didn't know you were ticklish."

"Ah! Oh god no stop please! No!" He was twitching in his chair, trying to get away from the nimble fingers. Then the bottom of his foot caught on another chair, and he jerked for another reason. "Ow, okay, that hurt."

Matthew held fast to Gilbert's towel-covered thighs to keep him steady. "See?" he huffed, guilt and worry bloating his tone, "You're too injured to do this. We should probably wait until you've healed at least a little."

He shook his head, and tried to think of something else besides how ticklish it was when Matthew once again started working on his burns. "I'll be fine. Have you ever ridden before? Because then I wouldn't have to move much, if you're that worried about me injuring myself." But the Canadian gave him an odd look, so he backtracked. "Or ya know we don't have to have sex today, maybe just, like, 69 or something? I mean we just got together, so maybe if you want to wait..."

Shaking his head with a smile, Matthew stretched up on his knees and kissed him. "Let's figure it out in the bedroom, hmm?"

"Mm, okay. Now? Am I all patched up to your satisfaction?" His feet were wrapped, and it felt really weird, but hopefully that meant that he was good to go.

"Well, I'd actually rather take you to a doctor," he confessed, smoothing his thumb over the bandages on Gilbert's chest, "but you can't always get what you want." Matthew smirked. "Would you like me to carry you?"

Gilbert smirked and delicately stood up from the chair. "No offense, but I really don't think being dropped would be good for me right now." He did however lean on Matthew, trying to walk on his heals since they hadn't gotten burnt and therefore weren't covered with cream and bandages.

Matthew pretended to be offended by the words, leading Gilbert to his bedroom and gingerly settling him there. He looked down at the towel riding scandalously low on Gilbert's hips and cleared his throat. "Are you sure you don't want to rest first? You've been through a lot today."

"You know, at first it was cute how worried you were about it, but now I'm already half hard, so give it up." Gilbert rested against the pillows and pulled Matthew onto the bed with him, his not-so bandaged hand going through his silky hair.

The Canadian gave a tiny yelp, positioning his arms awkwardly as he leaned over Gilbert so as not to touch him and cause any greater damage. Feeling the truth in that statement against his thigh he gasped, a healthy red dying his cheeks with embarrassment and arousal. He did his best not to lean into the touch, so as not to seem too pathetically smitten. "Okay, but seriously, Gil, if it hurts, don't push yourself."

"Yes mom. Oh wait no, please forget I mentioned my mother during this." He pulled a face, and then tried his hardest to forget it. Gilbert made a grab for Matthew's butt and squeezed, and it was almost as nice as feeling up a very plump breast. Matthew groaned, leaning forward to nibble at Gilbert's jaw, kissing over the small bandages on his neck. He touched Gilbert's shoulder gingerly, tracing his fingertips down the German's lean, muscled chest and over his abs, shivering. "Consider it forgotten," he murmured.

The German's hands went to pull Matthew's shirt up. "I hate being the only naked one." Especially since at the moment he imagined he didn't look very good, covered in bandages and bruises. "Much better." Gilbert pulled the towel out from under him, so that it wouldn't get in the way. He lifted up his hand, pressing it to Matthew's chest. His flat chest. But somehow he didn't mind as much as he would have a few months ago.

When deft, curious fingers began to toy with his nipples, Matthew gasped, lurching forward to rut helplessly against Gilbert's own hardness. He had never thought to tell any of his previous lovers of the sharp sensitivity in the two buds, but it seemed that Gilbert didn't need to be told.

"Wow, just like a girl," Gilbert muttered, smirking. He twisted them, and then slowly went down his stomach, circling around Matthews belly button a little. "Are you alright? Can I keep going?"

"M-mhmm, as long as you stop talking about girls." He shuddered, pressing sloppy, biting kisses against Gilbert's neck. "Don't stop. For the love of God, don't stop."

So Gilbert let his hand go lower, wrapping around Matthew's member. He paused, because it just felt so weird to feel a cock that wasn't his. But he forced himself to continue, and soon it didn't matter to him anymore.

Matthew moaned against his neck, sliding his lower lip between his teeth to stifle the embarrassing noise. He shivered and moved with the hand, rotating his hips at Gilbert's touch. "Is it weird?" he half-whispered against Gilbert's neck.

"A little," Gilbert said truthfully. "But I'll get used to it." He moved their erections together so that he could stroke both of them at the same time. "Um, I have lube in the drawer. Could you get it?" He would probably get in trouble for moving so much, since Matthew seemed so worried about his injuries.

Matthew half-blindly felt around for the drawer, righting skewed glasses to their normal location on the bridge of his nose. Pulling the bottle out he observed it momentarily before regarding Gilbert with a tiny smirk. "Vanilla-flavored? Really?"

He took the bottle, and gave it a large sniff. "Shut up, it was either this or rose. And this smells way better." He opened the cap, and then regarded his fingers. All of the ones on his good hand had bandages... "Okay, I read up on this and it said that I had to like stick some fingers in, just like if you were a virgin. But, uh, I think you're gonna have to do it."

Matthew laughed, taking the bottle and squirting the liquid in the palm of his hand, rolling his fingers in it. Reaching back, he found his entrance and circled it, taking a moment to relax his muscles before pushing in. "I might as well have topped," he chuckled, his breath hitching when after a short search, he found that only too pleasant bundle of nerves just _there_. He whimpered, his head falling to Gilbert's shoulder.

"Hey, I'm the one who went through that test thing, I should at least get the pleasure of fucking you," Gilbert retorted, unable to actually say that he was a bit afraid of being 'bottom'. That would be way too far down the line from straight for him to go. At least for now.

Matt composed himself long enough to sit further up, glancing down to gauge how well he needed to prepare for Gilbert's girth. He smiled a little to himself and added a second finger, only finding painful resistance at the third. "Mnn... gimme a minute," he muttered.

The smell of Matthew's shampoo exploded on Gilbert's senses. It still smelt so sweet to him. He really wished that he could see what was happening behind Matt's back, since the cute little noises he was making were driving him crazy.

The Canadian gave a final sigh, pulling the fingers out with some relief, some regret. He murmured Gilbert's name and rose up, reaching down at once to position the German's thick cock. His muscles were a little weak, and it took him a small amount of great effort to do it all without collapsing on top of Gilbert.

Gilbert groaned, a little surprised at just how tight it was. It was actually better than a woman! He gripped Matthew's hips to help him go up and down slowly. "You feel so good, fuck… so good."

Moaning insatiably at the words and honest-to-lust feeling behind them, Matthew tightened slightly around Gilbert and then relaxed, taking him further each time. "Mmm, Gil," he breathed in a stretched, full sort of ecstasy.

"Fuck it's so tight." Gilbert's head fell down onto the pillows, but then lifted up to kiss him. He tried thrusting up into Matthew, but had to use his hands to push up. Matthew returned the kiss with equal fervor, spreading his legs only a little further, just enough to take Gilbert in all the way. He threw back his head with a short cry of pleasure, Gilbert's name on his lips all the way through.

Glancing down, Gilbert saw the Canadian's heavy cock about to drip on his stomach. He grabbed it, using the precome to pump it faster. Matthew gave a louder moan, and he remembered how much he used to hate loud girls. Somehow, it only turned him on more now that he was with Matt.

The blond bent over, his fingers curling in the blankets at either side of Gilbert's head as he slid himself up and down erratically. "Don't stop! _Ah_, Gil, I'm gonna...!"

The seed spilled over Gilbert's hand and fell on his stomach. He continued pumping Matthew's cock, as he himself was getting closer. Now he was basically just bucking up into him, since the blond was quickly going limp.

Shuddering with every motion, Matthew leaned over Gilbert's torso, tightening around him as wisps of honey blond tickled over the albino's chest. He nipped with no delicate intent at Gilbert's shoulder, remembering in his pleasure-haze that he had heard somewhere that biting someone on the neck or shoulders could be incredibly arousing.

Thinking became difficult as Gilbert got even closer to finishing. But he was coherent enough to turn his face into Matthew's hair and quickly mumble, "Can I come inside?" He saw Matthew nod and heard the most delicious little whimper so he thrust up deep inside him, groaning loudly as he climaxed.

Matthew made a noise at the feeling of hot, wet seed filling him up, leaking down his thighs. He fell against Gilbert, wiggling a little as the softening cock slipped out of his throbbing hole. Breathing with Gilbert, he let his hand slowly slide up to the German's chest, his eyelashes brushing against the pale, strong neck. "So?" he inquired, pleasantly without breath.

"Mm, so... wanna sleep over?" Gilbert asked with a little laugh. He realized that the bandages on his hand had gotten dirty, but he was pretty sure they were waterproof. With his clean hand, he ran his fingers through Matthew's hair.

The Canadian leaned into the touch, smiling quietly. "Only if you'll have me," he murmured before drifting off into the gentle land of half-dreams.

* * *

The following morning met the two with a not-so-happy faced Alfred when they returned to his apartment for a few things- Gilbert had made it very clear that they would be spending a lot of nights "perfecting the gay in him", so it would just be a waste of gas to come back and forth all the time. Alfred had bags under his eyes and did not hide the scowl behind his glasses.

"Why are you wearing his shirt?" he sulked, pulling Matthew to his chest protectively.

"Oh, let them in, will you?" Arthur said behind him. "You're blocking the door with your enormous body."

The American glared at his boyfriend and pulled Matthew away from the door, still hugging him tightly.

Gilbert rolled his eyes at the two siblings. "Seriously, asshole, I won the challenge. Why do you _think_he's wearing my shirt? His got dirty, if you know what I mean." He gave a few lewd gestures to show exactly what he meant, before Matthew hit him. The Canadian wriggled away from Alfred somehow and dodged his attempt to snatch him again. "I texted you last night! You knew where I was!"

"That didn't stop him from keeping me up _all night _worrying about you," Arthur said sourly, shooting a glare at Alfred.

"Yeah well how would I know if he was alright or not?" Alfred pouted, heaving a great sigh. "Well, I guess you proved yesterday that you kinda almost deserve my brother." He held out his hand for Gilbert to shake. "But I warn you, if you hurt him, I _will_ break your spine."

Taking his hand to shake, Gilbert laughed. "Come on, I'm too awesome to kill." Then he grabbed Matthew and pulled him close, holding him possessively. "And I would never hurt him."

Before Matthew could have an aneurysm from the intensity of his blush, Arthur stepped in. "Welcome to the family, Gilbert," he said, smiling a strained smile while keeping a firm grip on Alfred's arm. "And thank you for taking care of Matthew. As a token of our appreciation, we invite you to have breakfast with us. Don't we, Alfred?"

"Oh, yeah," the American said, a malicious smirk on his face. "Artie worked really hard to make _everything on the table_. Truce?" He held his hand out to Gilbert, who shook it without a clue. Matthew's face quickly lost all color.

The real test was just beginning.


End file.
